


Bang a Gong

by waketosleep



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Abject Silliness, M/M, Mission Fic, Pon Farr, Romantic Comedy, Shenanigans, Star Trek Big Bang Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-26
Updated: 2010-10-26
Packaged: 2017-10-12 20:37:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waketosleep/pseuds/waketosleep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The chronicles of the Sad Bastards Club (Enterprise Chapter).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bang a Gong

**Author's Note:**

> AKA When Jim Met Spock, or the pon farr romcom. The only TOS thing I took as canon for this fic was Amok Time; the rest is all lies about Vulcan reproductive and marriage rites. As well as shenanigans. You guys, this is what happens when I make a _conscious effort_ to write comedy.
> 
> [Mix by Jouissant](http://jouissant.livejournal.com/21108.html)   
> [Art by ashleyj28](http://ashleyj28.livejournal.com/51910.html)

"New orders coming in from Starfleet, Captain," said Uhura over the busy murmur of the bridge.

Jim spun around in his chair to face her. "What are they, Lieutenant?"

"We're to divert course to Starbase 12 to pick up supplies needed for the Vulcan colony."

Their third milk run in the first six months of the mission. "All right then," said Jim. "Guess the exploration of the Omicron Tauri system will have to wait. Chekov, how long will the diversion take?"

Chekov thought for a second, because why just use the console in front of him to calculate it when he could show off his brain instead? "Assuming the briefest possible stop at the starbase and then one, perhaps two days at the Vulcan colony, it will be two weeks before we are back on course for Omicron Tauri."

"Thirteen days and four hours, Ensign," said Spock without looking up from his station.

Jim rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said. "Set our course, Chekov."

"Aye, Captain."

Jim settled into his chair and sighed to himself. At least if it was the Vulcan colony, he could convince himself that being Starfleet's errand boy was worth his time.

***

They'd made good time to the starbase and the loading of supplies onto the ship was proceeding efficiently under Jim and Spock's supervision. Well, Spock's supervision. Jim was just hanging around, annoying Spock and checking things out. He was avoiding both his yeoman, who was hunting him down to bury him in paperwork, and Bones, who had taken advantage of the starbase stop to requisition some medical supplies and was on a holy tear getting things organized. He'd almost made the quartermaster cry an hour ago, which Jim had been forced to deal with.

"So, Spock," said Jim, nodding at Nurse Chapel as she stormed past them, "are you looking forward to visiting home for a bit?"

Spock was looking down at his PADD. "I do not live on the Vulcan colony, as you are aware, Captain."

Jim winced; maybe he'd been bugging Spock too much already. "Okay, but your dad lives there, right? Home's where your family is, or at least family tends to think so. Maybe some old friends are still around? You get to see them."

Spock was silent for a moment. "Indeed. I will most likely arrange a visit with my father, if time permits."

"We'll make time," Jim said. "We haven't been able to give the crew liberty on a safe planet in months so it's not like anyone will object to an extra day there, if it comes to that."

Spock finally looked at him; his face was a mask as usual. "It would be prudent to continue to Omicron Tauri promptly upon delivery of the supplies."

"It's _one day_ , Spock. Omicron Tauri is two weeks away at Warp 7. We're not creating anywhere near the kind of delay that Starfleet already has. Visit your dad."

"You are the captain," said Spock, sounding as though he wished otherwise.

"Damn straight I am," said Jim, and walked off to go pull Bones away from whoever he was terrifying now. Although from Chapel's expression earlier, it was possible he'd be rescuing Bones from her instead.

***

"There it is, ladies and gentlemen," Jim said when the planet loomed on the main viewscreen. They were in geosynchronous orbit; ocean stood out vividly blue around the edges of a huge landmass, brown desert brushed with hints of red. A single, bright green trickle of plant life wound its way through the northwest part of the landmass. Jim thought it looked like a mountain range. The full effect was breathtaking, like every new planet when viewed from orbit. Another impossible cluster of life in a universe that was mostly empty.

"May I present to you...." Jim faltered. "Vulcan II? New Vulcan?" He looked at Spock, ignoring Uhura's scoff from behind him.

"While I believe the Federation refers to it both by its astronomical designation, Chi Draconis IV, and as 'New Vulcan'," said Spock, sounding disinterested although he was staring at the viewscreen just like the rest of them, "the Vulcan name for it is T'Hamlan."

"What a beautiful name," said Uhura.

"What's it mean?" Jim asked.

Spock tore his gaze from the viewscreen to look at Jim. " _Hamlan_ is the Vulcan concept of paradise. The planet's name suggests that it is derived from that place."

Jim raised his eyebrow. "That's a pretty romantic idea for Vulcans."

"Perhaps," said Spock, raising his eyebrow right back.

Jim sat up. "Well, now that we've all learned something, let's get this show on the road."

"I've already made contact with the port authority, Captain," Uhura piped up. "We're clear to beam down."

Jim got to his feet. "Spock, Sulu, and Uhura, with me. Uhura, call Dr. McCoy and Chief Zaidi to the transporter room for beaming down with the landing party."

"I think Chief Zaidi's still angry with the doctor, Captain," Lt. Breen cut in.

Jim sighed. "Fine. Leave Dr. McCoy aboard. We can't have the quartermaster breaking down again. Let's go," he said, walking to the turbolift.

***

Jim's first impression of New Vulcan upon beaming down was _heat_. "Jesus," he gasped, almost stumbling as the temperature change assaulted him.

Spock, by contrast, straightened a little more. "We are a desert-dwelling species, Captain."

"Was Vulcan this hot?"

"You were there."

"I was in freefall," Jim pointed out. "The temperature didn't really register."

"No," piped up Sulu, "I remember it being this hot."

"In _freefall_ ," said Jim skeptically.

"It was a long way down. I had a surprising amount of time to think."

Jim shook his head and was about to open his mouth again when a middle-aged looking Vulcan approached them, with two assistants standing just behind him. "We welcome you," he said, spreading his fingers in that Vulcan greeting, "to the settlement of Palik'Kahr. I am Sevek."

Spock returned the greeting smoothly and said something in Vulcan, which the greeter repeated with a nod.

"Thanks, Sevek," said Jim somewhat awkwardly, "it's good to be here."

"Captain Kirk, perhaps you would like a tour of the colony as the supplies are unloaded."

"Sure," Jim said with a shrug. "I think my quartermaster's got things under control." He looked at Zaidi. "Just, you know, comm me if you need to."

"Aye, Captain," said Zaidi. "Can I get started? This heat is ridiculous."

"We have several personnel prepared to assist you," said Sevek.

"Great. I'll call my team to get started with the beaming," said Zaidi, flipping open his comm.

"Spock," said Sevek, "if you are at liberty, Sarek has asked for you to see him."

Spock blinked. "I should oversee the unloading of supplies," he said.

"Chief Zaidi's fine, Spock," said Jim. "Just go. You can join the tour later, if you want."

Spock gave Jim an inscrutable look. "Very well," he said finally. One of Sevek's assistants led him away to find Sarek's house.

"He looked annoyed," said Uhura as they watched him go.

"You can _tell_?" said Jim.

Uhura narrowed her eyes at him, the look that said, 'you're an idiot, and if it weren't incredibly insubordinate I would use words to tell you so'.

"Shall we begin the tour?" said Sevek. He left his other assistant with Zaidi as Jim, Sulu and Uhura followed him away from the transporter loading area.

***

Spock didn't join up with the tour at any point during the afternoon, and when the rest of the landing party was invited to dinner with the colony officials (including Ambassador Spock, Jim noted with a grin), neither Spock nor his dad joined the festivities.

"I wonder where he is," said Jim over dessert--some kind of mouth-wateringly sweet fruit.

"He's spending time with his last remaining family member, _Captain_ ," said Uhura in an undertone. "Most people would choose that over you."

"Hey," Sulu said, but Jim cut him off, because she did have a point, and even though they had a transcendent bond formed under great threat of death, Jim really didn't need Sulu to defend his honour.

"You're right," he said instead, scooping up another spoonful of fruit to eat. "I hope they're enjoying their visit."

Uhura looked him up and down silently for a second before she went back to eating, too.

When they beamed back up to the ship at nightfall colony-time, still without Spock, Jim offhandedly queried the computer. Spock was in his quarters.

Jim hesitated for only a second before setting off for the officers' deck.

Faced with Spock's door, though, he found himself indecisive again. He walked in on McCoy in his quarters all the time (it was just the relationship they had; he had to retaliate somehow for all the surprise hyposprays) but even after six months of working together pretty smoothly, Jim didn't feel anywhere near the same level of comfort with Spock. Teasing him on the bridge was one thing, but Spock's quarters were his private space. Then again, Jim couldn't deny, at least to himself, that he was a hopeless busybody when it came to people he liked, and concern was flaring in the back of his mind. His finger moved to the buzzer almost on its own.

There was no response for a long enough stretch that Jim nearly turned and escaped to his own cabin, but then Spock called, "Enter," and the door opened.

Jim took a step inside and then hesitated in the doorway. Spock was sitting cross-legged on a mat in the middle of the room. The air smelled of incense.

Just as it occurred to Jim that this was the first time he'd ever been inside Spock's quarters, Spock rose gracefully to his feet. "Do you require something of me, Captain?"

"Uh," said Jim, taken aback. "I--" He looked around, trying to recover. "I hope I'm not interrupting something."

"I was meditating, but it is not problematic to be interrupted, as I have lab paperwork to complete. What do you require?" Spock was extinguishing the incense in its little pot on the floor and rolling up his mat.

Jim took another step inside, finally allowing the door to shut behind him. "I just... how was your visit with your dad?"

"It was adequate." Most of Spock's attention seemed to be on his meditation things.

"I was surprised we didn't see you at all. There was a dinner with the colony officials."

"I was aware. I did not wish to attend. My father remained with me."

Now that Jim was searching for it, he could see the subtleties of Spock's body language; the line of his shoulders was tense, where usually it was only rigid in a disciplined kind of way. And he was still fiddling with his incense pot. Jim's eyes narrowed as he put two and two together. "Something happened today."

"You will have to be more specific." Spock put the pot on a shelf and moved to his desk. Jim followed him, taking the chair on the other side.

"You know exactly what I mean. Something happened with your dad today."

"It is not your concern." At least Spock had abandoned the denial tactic quickly.

Jim studied Spock for a minute, thinking. Spock stared back levelly, his face the picture of calm. "Do you want to stay one more day?" Jim asked.

"As I told you at the starbase, it would be best that we return promptly to the exploratory mission we were tasked to complete."

Spock's answer seemed a little too quick. Jim cocked his head, trying to read between the lines.

"I have had sufficient time to interact with my father," Spock added. "Therefore it would be difficult to justify remaining. Also, the temperature in Palik'Kahr is much higher than ideal for a rest period for human crew."

"Uh huh," said Jim. "You're sure you don't want to stay? He's your only dad, you know." He felt a little mean to press the issue but Spock's stonewalling brought out the worst in him, apparently.

"Of course he is my only father," said Spock. "That statement is illogical."

Jim crossed his arms. "You can keep deflecting, or you can just tell me what happened. I'm more patient than you may have been led to believe."

"I told you that it is not your concern."

"I'm not trying to be nosy. Whatever you say stays in this room," said Jim. "But the longer I sit here, the more upset you look to me."

Spock looked down, picking up a stylus and putting it down again, aligning it at a precise right angle to the edge of the desk. "That is a result of your continued presence in my quarters, without invitation."

"Okay," said Jim, taking the cue to back off. He stood up. "Just, humans usually like to talk about problems with someone. Helps diminish their hold on us. And I kind of think it's not just a technique that works for humans."

Spock didn't say another word as Jim left his quarters. Out in the hallway, Jim took a deep breath and sighed. "That went well," he muttered. He took a detour to the bridge to order their departure before going back to his own quarters for bed.

***

Two nights later, Jim sat at his desk going through his message inbox, which was ridiculously overflowing. The door chime going off was a welcome distraction from deleting Starfleet newsletters. "Enter!" he called. It was probably Bones; he had this cute idea that exercising proper courtesy when he came to Jim's quarters might convince Jim to start doing the same.

It was Spock. "Are you occupied, Captain?" he asked.

Jim blinked but recovered quickly. "Nope, not doing a thing," he said, exiting his message application without looking at the terminal. "What's up?"

"As that question appears to hold no sensible meaning, I assume it is a greeting." Spock took the chair across the desk.

"It means, 'what's going on?'," Jim clarified, leaning back in his chair and grinning.

"I see. You recall our conversation two nights ago?"

What a question. "Yes."

"As a Vulcan, I hesitate to admit that the human convention you described intrigued me somewhat. However, it did, and I have been considering it ever since then."

"Well," said Jim blandly, "I know we're ridiculously illogical and all that, but you know what they say. Even a stopped clock is right twice a day."

Spock stared for a moment. "Indeed." He looked confused. "If you have finished attempting to annoy me with idioms, I have a request to make."

Jim mimed zipping his lips and gestured for Spock to go ahead.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I have spent the last two days exercising Vulcan practices of emotional control, including a great deal of meditation, but my 'problem', as you put it, persists. I do not know what other method to attempt, so I am willing to try speaking about it. If it does not diminish the negative emotions threatening my equilibrium, then it probably will not harm me further."

"That's the spirit," Jim said. "Lay it on me."

He bit back a grin when Spock stared at him for another second. Then Spock took a deep breath.

"My father asked to see me because of a request from my betrothed."

Jim's brain tripped over itself. "Sorry?"

"She had petitioned the High Council to sever our bond and my presence on the planet necessitated action on the issue. I was engaged in that process for the entirety of the visit."

"Wait," said Jim, holding up both hands. "Back up. Betrothed?"

"That is the closest Standard word which describes our relationship. Vulcans place a high value upon marital bonds for many reasons, and we are all therefore promised to another at a young age."

"Wow," said Jim. "I thought you were dating Uhura all this time."

Spock inclined his head. "That is a common rumour with a logical premise for those uneducated in Vulcan culture," said Spock, his tone implying that most people fit that description, "but untrue."

"But you two-- with the-- on the transporter pad--"

"The lieutenant and I are indeed close friends, and have been for nearly three years. She is a very tactile person, despite her respect for Vulcan cultural norms.... It was an unusual circumstance, compounded by shock and grief," Spock finished kind of lamely.

Jim's head hurt. "You never--"

"I am her superior officer, Captain. I was once her instructor. When my betrothal was also taken into account, it was, beyond question, an inexcusable transgression for there to be a romantic relationship between myself and Lt. Uhura."

"Then why did you let the rumours continue?" Jim felt a desperate need to sort this out in his head.

"It has been my experience that denial of a rumour typically does not diminish its presence. It seemed wisest to ignore it, since the situation between us never developed beyond that incident."

"Okay," said Jim, rubbing his temples, "so you were never with Uhura but you were always secretly engaged to a Vulcan girl. And she... survived?" He didn't know how else to ask it.

"T'Pring was on a VSA research vessel in the Vega system during the Battle of Vulcan," Spock confirmed, his voice unwavering and emotionless as it always was when the word 'Vulcan' came out of his mouth. "Are you now in possession of all the relevant facts?"

"God, I hope so," said Jim fervently. Then he thought back to what Spock had said before his brain had twisted itself into knots. "She wanted to sever your bond? Is that... is that like divorce?"

Spock's face stayed a mask. "As we had not yet solidified our bond of betrothal into one of marriage, the issue of its severance was not as serious as the dissolution of a full marriage bond. But the High Council's approval is necessary before a severance can occur."

Jim leaned forward without thinking, his hands reaching partway across the surface of his desk. "Did they...." He couldn't quite finish the question.

"They approved," said Spock.

"Why?"

"Her reasoning was eminently logical, as it always has been." Spock had started looking at the wall behind Jim's shoulder. "There are 12,837 Vulcans remaining out of an estimated six billion. Repopulation is on everyone's mind. However, as a half-Vulcan, half-human created through genetic manipulation, I am sterile."

"So you got dumped by your fiancée during your first visit to your home colony," said Jim, "because you can't have children."

"I do not believe," Spock said, and now his voice was fainter, "that it was her only motivation to do so. But that is the official reason accepted by the High Council for the severance of our bond of betrothal, yes."

"Jesus."

"Sharing this with you has not diminished my emotions," said Spock.

"Well, no," said Jim. "I think it takes quite a bit more than that, in your circumstances. I had no idea it would be this bad."

Spock said nothing.

"She didn't like you, did she?"

Spock shook his head.

"Yeah, I can't imagine a person doing that to someone they liked. For what it's worth, though, what's her name? T'Pring? T'Pring is a bitch with no taste whatsoever. I hope she has a million logical babies with someone half as awesome as you and realizes she missed out." Jim offered Spock a smile. "You'll find someone."

"I will not be bonded to a Vulcan again," said Spock. "Many childhood bonds were severed when our planet died, but there are currently more adult males than females, and a sterile male rejected by his bondmate will not find another one in those circumstances."

Jim looked at Spock, took in the subtle details of defeat in his bearing: downcast eyes, hands fisted in his lap, shoulders sloping down when they were normally confidently squared. He opened his desk drawer. "I have something to show you," he said, digging through the drawer before he lost his courage.

Spock took the holo when he held it out, examining it in silence. "This is a young human child," he said. He looked between Jim and the holo. "There appears to be a family resemblance."

Jim smiled wryly. "That's David. He was two when that was taken. It's a couple years old already, but it's the only picture I have of him. I don't think Carol even wanted me to have that one, but she was drunk when she sent it." He shrugged.

"This is your son," said Spock, making the connection. "I was unaware that you had a child."

Jim bit his lip. "I don't tell people about him; hell, I've never actually set eyes on him in the first place. Carol didn't think I should be a part of his life. Considering I was fresh off of a little stint in jail when she got pregnant, I guess I can understand where she was coming from." Jim cleared his throat. "Anyway. Even Bones doesn't know about him, so I'd appreciate it if you'd keep it to yourself." He took the holo back from Spock and studied it for a moment, his eyes tracing over his kid's blond hair and blue eyes and chubby cheeks before he set it gently back in the drawer.

"Jim," Spock started, using his first name for a change, "why have you shared something so private with me?"

Jim really wasn't sure himself; he shrugged. "I guess...." He looked around the room as he searched for the words he wanted. "I guess it's just that I know what it's like to feel rejected by someone you were close to," he said finally.

"I see," said Spock. He stood up. "Perhaps the sharing of my problem has aided me, after all."

"Good," said Jim.

He watched with his hand resting on his desk drawer as Spock left his quarters.

***

Omicron Tauri's third planet scanned as a Class L, mostly barren and dry with oases of vegetation and no other lifeforms to speak of. Jim let Spock and the biology team have an orgy of atmospheric tests and orbital scans of the surface conditions for a whole day before he started getting antsy.

"The air's breathable, right?" he asked Spock, turning in his chair to face the science station.

"It is 15% oxygen, 40% argon, 35% nitrogen and 10% assorted other gases, none of which are particularly poisonous in the concentrations in which they are present," Spock answered without turning around. "It is possible to breathe unaided for short periods of time."

"Surface temperature?"

"In the desert regions, it ranges from a low of approximately 260 Kelvin during hours of darkness, to 315 Kelvin during sunlight hours. The oases appear to have much less variation between day and night; the average high temperature in the regions we are observing seems to be approximately 300 Kelvin."

"Great," said Jim, bouncing to his feet. "Let's go."

Spock finally turned around. "Go where, Captain?"

"Planetside! Grab a team and meet me in the transporter room."

"It is unwise for both the captain and the first officer to leave the ship at the same time while on a mission."

"And yet, it's my prerogative to decide who goes on away teams," countered Jim as he sauntered to the turbolift. "There's no life except plants, anyway; we'll be fine."

The turbolift doors shut on any other protests Spock might have been making. Jim hummed a little tune as he descended to the transporter deck.

"This is not wise, Captain," said Spock again ten minutes later, as he entered the transporter room with three botanists in tow.

"Your concerns are noted, Mr. Spock," Jim grinned, hopping up on the pad.

"You will require this for an extended period in the thin atmosphere," said Spock, handing him a portable breather. "Please use it."

"Wouldn't want Bones to have another excuse to bitch," Jim agreed, taking the breather and dropping it in his pants pocket. "Energize," he instructed the transporter tech when everyone was in place.

The botanists scattered like kids in a candy store as soon as they materialized inside one of the pockets of vegetation on the surface. Jim smiled proudly when Spock arched an eyebrow at him. "Go on," he said. "Go play with the other geeks. I know you want to; you can thank me later."

Spock stared at him for a full ten seconds before hauling out his tricorder and moving to a nearby tree. Jim took a deep breath of the thin air, leaving his breather in his pocket, and picked a direction to wander off in. The whole expedition went really smoothly.

For about fifteen minutes.

"Did you just hear something crack?" Jim said suddenly.

Spock looked up from a fern he was fondling. "I believe the wind is disturbing the trees."

"Okay." Jim nodded, relaxing, and then there was a scream.

"That was Lt. Tal," said Spock as Jim drew his phaser.

They took off, crashing through the brush. The other two scientists caught up with them, phasers drawn and faces white with fear.

Lt. Tal was facedown in a pile of dead leaves; the back of her shirt was red with blood. Jim dove for her, leaves flying around him as he turned her over; he was faintly aware of Spock hissing at him to stop and then ordering the other two officers to cover him.

"Some small projectile hit her in the back; I don't know if it's still in there. She's still breathing," Jim said, grabbing his comm to hail the ship. "Kirk to _Enterprise_." But there was nothing but static, on six different channels. Jim looked up.

"Something's interfering with the comm signals," he said.

"The trees appear to contain unusually high levels of iron deposits," said Spock, his gaze firmly on the foliage behind Jim and Tal. "That may be the source of the interference."

"We'll have to move her into the open, then," said Jim. "I don't think we have much time."

"Wait," piped up Lt. Jones from behind Spock, "what about the thing that shot her? It might still be in the trees."

Jim looked down at Tal. She was unconscious, her breathing rapid and shallow. He'd talked to her over lunch in the officers' mess a week ago; she was working on her dissertation, about some herb native to Tellar that might cure ALS, and she was looking forward to the promotion she'd get after her defense. The projectile could have hit a lung, could have hit a lot of sensitive things, but she was still alive and might stay that way. Minutes counted.

"Getting her to Sickbay is our first priority," he said, already moving to pick her up carefully. "Stay alert and let's hope we see her attacker before it sees us. Let's move."

He scooped her up in his arms and had nearly made it to the nearest big tree, with Spock right on his six, when he heard a little whiff of air and something punched him in the shoulder.

"Ow?" he said, twisting so as not to crush Tal when he toppled into the tree trunk.

"Captain!" called Spock, appearing beside him and pulling him lower to the ground. The other two were covering the trees behind Jim. Spock grabbed Jim and hauled him around to see the back of his shoulder.

"What the fuck?" said Jim muzzily. His shoulder was burning.

"You were shot," said Spock. "It appears to have passed through the tissue but you are bleeding profusely. Give me the lieutenant."

"No," said Jim, blinking against the pain, which was getting really terrible really fast. "I can--" But his left arm pretty much wouldn't move, so he wound up not resisting when Spock took Tal from him. Jim took a deep breath and then hauled himself back to his feet, hanging onto the tree with his right arm. "Shit," he said, looking over his shoulder. He couldn't see much, but his uniform was soaking with blood.

"Yes," said Spock. "Do you still have your phaser, Captain?"

Jim drew it from his holster and clumsily set it to a high stun with his uncooperative left hand. "Okay, I've got you," he said, holding it up in his right. "Did you see whatever shot me?"

"We could neither see nor hear anything."

"Fantastic." Jim peered ahead into the foliage, which only seemed to get thicker. "Jones and Simchuk," he called back at the scientists, "stay on Spock's six. I'll take his twelve. We want to try and get a glimpse of this thing, if we can."

It was slow going, bushwhacking with one good hand with a phaser in it, but Jim did his best to clear branches out of the way for Spock. The going was tough, and made Jim feel lightheaded; he called a stop to put on their breathers, although Tal's mouth was too slack to accommodate hers. After about ten minutes, Simchuk made an alarmed noise and then ripped out his breather to talk.

"I saw a tail!"

"A tail?"

"Yeah, a lizard tail! Just for a second, about fifteen feet back in the brush."

"How big are we talking here?" Jim asked. "Iguana? Gecko? Dinosaur?"

"The part I saw looked as big around as my arm."

Jim choked on his breather as he put it back in. He made 'hurry up' gestures at everyone and renewed his attack on the ferns in front of him. It was just his luck that a supposedly uninhabited planet would end up being some fucked-up version of _Land of the Lost_. He'd hardly made it two steps when there was a hissing noise from off to his right and then the broad leaf hanging down in front of him suddenly had a hole in the middle.

He carefully raised his left arm to yank out his breather. "We're being hunted," he said softly.

Spock stopped directly behind him and shifted Tal to remove his own breather. "By a reptile with a projectile weapon?"

"I'm pretty sure you can't even make this shit up," Jim whispered back. "Does the Prime Directive apply here?"

Spock paused. "The creature appears to be an intelligent hunter, but sentience is not assured."

"Good," said Jim, as he adjusted the setting on his phaser again.

Spock eyed him. "Should we kill it, Captain?"

"Should it kill us instead, Commander?"

Instead of answering, Spock nodded forward, into the trees. "We must keep going in this direction."

Just as desert sunlight started to show through the foliage and Jim had begun to think they'd get out alive (dizzy with relief, or blood loss), their hunter made its move, cutting off their exit. Jim staggered to a halt, raising his phaser. It was a ten-foot-long quadrupedal reptile, crouching in front of them with its head at the height of Jim's chest; it hissed loudly and took a step forward.

Jim took a step back, nearly running into Spock. "Jesus," he said.

"I cannot see the means by which it fires projectiles at such velocity," said Spock.

Simchuk fired his phaser at it; the lizard hissed again and reared up to spit. Simchuk screamed and dropped his phaser, clutching at his upper arm. Blood leaked through his fingers.

"You had to fucking ask, didn't you, Spock?" Jim muttered.

Spock was blinking at the lizard. "It uses some biological process to create projectiles and then uses its throat muscles to fire them at its prey." He glanced up at the trees. "The high iron deposits in the area may be related."

"It _spits bullets_ ," Jim snapped. He switched his phaser to 'kill'.

"Indeed," said Spock, his tone a little arch at the oversimplification, but this wasn't the time. Instead, he set down Tal and drew his own phaser.

Jim shot the thing, aiming for its head. It hissed again, but didn't die. Dark, sludgy blood trickled from the wound he'd made.

"Fuck," he said as the thing reared up and opened its mouth. Before it could spit a bullet at Jim's face though, Spock shot it right inside the mouth. What was left of it afterward fell over in a puff of decaying leaves.

Jim stared at it for a minute. "Nice shot," he said finally.

"Thank you, Captain." Spock scooped up Tal again and surged forward, making for the sunlight. "I suggest we hurry; there is no reason to believe that was the only reptile present."

Jones grabbed Simchuk and they all hauled ass out into the desert, squinting as they burst from the tree cover into the harsh sun. Jones whipped out his comm. "Landing party to _Enterprise_. Requesting beam-out. Medical assistance required."

"How is she?" Jim demanded, reaching over to Tal to look for a pulse.

"Her heart rate is approximately half of human normal," said Spock, "and her respiration is shallow and intermittent. The blood loss has been quite severe. But she is still alive."

Jim sighed loudly as Scotty began to beam them up.

Bones' pissy look was already in place when the transporter room clarified around Jim, and it intensified when he saw all the blood. "Chapel, bring the stretcher over," he snapped. "You two walking wounded idiots, Sickbay. Let's go."

As soon as Tal was stabilized, Jim let himself relax and turn his attention to pissing off Bones from his biobed.

"It's just a flesh wound," he joked over the hum of the dermal regenerator. "You should see the other guy."

Bones shut the regenerator off and brought a hypospray out of nowhere, stabbing Jim's neck with precision accuracy.

"Shit!" Jim yelled, flinching. "Is there a lot of call for ninja reflexes in the medical community, Bones?"

"No, it's one of many bonus skills I bring to the table. Asshole."

Spock crossed the room from where Simchuk was being attended to, his arms folded over his chest. "How is your shoulder, Captain?"

Jim rolled it experimentally. "A little tight. I'll be fine."

"Relatively speaking," Bones hissed before stalking away.

"He prefers my blood on the inside of my body," Jim observed, watching him go.

"It is a positive trait for starship captains," said Spock. "I would like to reiterate that it is against policy for captains to join away teams, for reasons illustrated today."

Jim stared at him. "No. Look. If we hadn't both been there, the whole landing party could have died. Three injuries and no deaths instead? Awesome. Relatively speaking."

"We do have security teams for such purposes."

Jim waved it off. "What good am I to my crew if I'm too afraid to risk my life alongside them?" He paused. "Also, fuck. You and me? We're badasses."

"Pardon me?"

"Did you even _see_ what kind of team we made down there? I mean yes, we were badasses on the Narada, too, but this just establishes that it wasn't a fluke." He gestured back and forth between them. "Bad. Asses."

"I do not wish to continue this discussion, as you may mistake further participation for encouragement."

"Sure," said Jim absently. "Oh, hey, did we figure out what was wrong with our scanners that kept them from picking up the gunslinging lizard, possibly plural?"

"Mr. Scott and Mr. Sulu are investigating, but my preliminary theory is that in addition to interfering with the comms, the trees also disguised the presence of lifeforms within the oasis we beamed into."

"So they're like leafy Faraday cages of disguised doom."

Spock looked away. "Essentially, yes."

"I want the sensors fixed."

Spock straightened a little more. "If they can be fixed, I will fix them, Captain."

Jim was still woozy from blood loss, so he stretched out on his biobed for a catnap before he had to go write up his mission report. "Thanks, Spock."

"Yes, Captain."

***

Something in the air definitely changed after that mission with the Wild West dinosaur (possibly plural). It was sneaky, though. Basically, one day two months later, Alpha shift ended and Jim and Spock walked off the bridge into the turbolift without bothering to pause their argument about whether getting to second base with the Orion Secretary of Defense could be considered good diplomatic relations. Just as Jim was punching the button for the officers' deck and changing the topic to dinner, deep inside his brain he had some kind of epiphany, or maybe a stroke.

"Jim?" Spock asked. Jim had shut up abruptly in the middle of a sentence about pesto sauce.

He looked at Spock in a daze. "Are we friends?"

Spock stared for a minute. "That may be an appropriate descriptor."

The turbolift doors opened but Jim ignored them. "When did that happen?"

Spock walked past him into the corridor; Jim followed dumbly. "I believe that it was gradual. Coordination of our schedules led to increased time in one another's presence and a great number of shared meals."

"Huh," said Jim.

"Do you wish to play chess tonight?" Spock asked as he led the way to the officers' mess.

Another thing, Jim abruptly realized, that had happened while he wasn't paying attention. They played chess--what, two, three times a week, now? Insidious. He rubbed at his face. "Sounds good."

"Very well," said Spock, and he walked over to the replicators.

***

Once Jim had been let in on the secret that he and Spock were--friends? Buddies? Bros? ...Once he noticed that they were spending time together socially and outside of work scenarios, he realized it was a surprisingly easy fit. They ate at least one meal a day together, usually arguing about ship's business in a mostly non-hostile kind of way. They played chess, which was the highlight of Jim's life because he won, like, all the time and Spock was going crazy trying to figure out how he did it. They worked out and Spock kicked Jim's ass all over the gym in front of an audience under the guise of 'helping him improve his close combat skills'. They went on missions when Jim could get away with joining the away team and dragging Spock with him, and sometimes things went smoothly and sometimes they were shot at, and sometimes Jim maybe fooled around with high-level military advisors and then Spock made him comm Pike when they got back to the ship. Because Spock was a killjoy.

"Where's your pointy-eared hip accessory?" Bones asked one night when Jim dropped into his quarters for a nightcap.

"What?" Jim asked, dropping into the chair opposite Bones' desk.

Bones rolled his eyes. "Spock. You two are always braiding each other's hair and gossiping about boys these days."

"That's not true," Jim insisted, grabbing the drink Bones had just poured him. "My hair's too short to braid." He took a sip, smirking at Bones over the rim of his glass, before he put it down and said, "Jealous? Have I been neglecting your needs, dear?"

"I don't know what to do with all the peace and quiet I've had lately," Bones groused, slumping in his chair and flipping Jim off in a good-natured way.

"I mean, God forbid I get along with my first officer," Jim bitched back, slumping in his own chair.

Bones raised both hands. "Did I hit a nerve, Jimmy?"

"It all kinda took me by surprise," Jim mumbled into his glass.

"Since the planet with the projectile-vomiting lizards?"

Jim thought. "Since T'Hamlan."

"What?"

" _New Vulcan,_ " Jim ground out.

"Oh. Why? He threw a Vulcan hissy fit while we were there, didn't he?" Bones kicked his feet up on his desk as he watched Jim.

Jim rolled the words around in his mouth, wondering how much he could actually tell Bones. "He had a good reason," he settled on.

"Whatever you say, Jim. So you have your own special club now, is that it?"

Jim snorted. "Yes. The Sad Bastards Club, Enterprise Chapter." He raised his glass mockingly. "You want in?"

"I'm probably already in the Earth Chapter," Bones said thoughtfully.

"Update your membership. Perks include free access to members-only pity parties."

"Well, how can I say no to an offer like that?" said Bones.

***

Once a week, there was a senior staff meeting at 0700, before the start of Alpha shift. For the first time in the history of that meeting, Jim was ten minutes early (Spock waking him up on time by practically leaning on the buzzer to his quarters might have had a tiny bit to do with it) and since Sulu, at the very least, normally stumbled into the conference room no earlier than 0705 and almost everyone else seemed to be in a similar state of mind this morning, Jim was sitting, bored, at the conference table. Bones was on his left, contemplating a cup of coffee in front of him, and Spock was on his right, going through his PADD. Uhura sat across the table in front of Bones, scratching at a fingernail.

Jim smirked to himself and discreetly made an O of his left forefinger and thumb and laid it on the top of his thigh. Then he waited.

Bones blinked owlishly at the sudden, slight movement and turned to give Jim's leg a confused glare. Jim took three seconds to relish the wide-eyed look of dawning horror before he punched Bones in the arm.

"Son of a bitch!" Bones snapped.

Jim laughed; they used to play that game all the time at the Academy, especially during lunch, late midterm cramming sessions and boring ethics classes (using the pinching variation and with loudness penalties). In their third year, Bones had introduced what he called a 'new variation', where Jim's punishment for looking at the finger-circle was a hypospray of vitamin boosters. Jim had stopped playing shortly after that.

But now he was wiping tears from the corners of his eyes while Bones swore at him, Uhura shook her head at them both and Spock raised his eyebrow at the whole tableau.

"Doctor McCoy, although I would not wish to deprecate his capacity for irritating actions, does not appear to have done anything to elicit physical abuse," Spock ventured.

"They're being _boys_ , Spock," said Uhura.

"It's a game," Jim said brightly overtop of her.

"A game involving violence?"

"That's the best kind!" said Jim. "Look, this is how you play it. I just do this with my fingers," he demonstrated, "and then discreetly display it somewhere and wait for you to look at it. If you do, I get to punch you as hard as I want."

"How does this game continue without devolving into fistfights?" Spock asked, looking curious in spite of probably knowing better.

"Because you're not allowed to punch me back."

"I am not?"

"No punchbacks," said Jim sagely. "It's the rule."

Bones leaned around him to see Spock. "You retaliate by doing the same thing to him and making him look," he clarified.

"This game is illogical," Spock declared.

"It was invented by _boys_ ," Uhura hissed.

"It's a fine human tradition!" Kirk protested. "You love those! Look, here's another one," he said, and pointed at Spock's chest, bringing his finger in close.

Spock looked down at Jim's finger and Jim flicked him in the chin.

"No returns," said Jim.

Spock glared. Then the rest of the senior staff staggered in as a group, so Jim hastily got the meeting started. Bones kept sniggering through the first fifteen minutes, and Uhura rolled her eyes a lot.

By the time the meeting ended, Jim was dreaming of crawling back into bed, and his nice, warm blankets were the chief thing on his mind as he walked with Bones and Spock toward the turbolift. Spock was going to the biology labs for the morning, and as the turbolift neared Deck 3 he turned to Jim.

"What?" Jim asked as Spock stared at him expectantly. Then he looked down.

Spock flicked him in the chin.

"Retaliation is not permitted," said Spock, and walked out of the turbolift as Bones collapsed against the back of it, wheezing with laughter.

Jim stared after him in shock. "You're supposed to say, 'no returns'!" he called as the doors slid shut again.

Bones was crying, now, sitting on his ass on the floor of the turbolift. Jim kicked him in the thigh.

"Can it, dickwad," he muttered.

Bones just fell over, still laughing.

***

"Definitely no lifesigns of note, Captain," reported Lt. Grxlsy, lowering xer tricorder.

Sulu sighed.

"Mother _fucker_. 'Join Starfleet'," bitched Jim, glaring around at the idyllic, green meadow buzzing happily with insects in the sunlight. "'Explore new worlds. Visit supposedly uninhabited planets that turn out to have deadly lifeforms hiding on them. Visit supposedly _inhabited_ planets that turn out to be deserted.' Sign me the fuck up."

Bones smacked him good-naturedly in the back of the head. "Stop whining."

"Ow," Jim muttered.

"The Vulcans visited this planet about 200 years ago," said Grxlsy, "and it says in their reports that they found a pre-warp civilization and predicted it would be ready for contact by now."

Jim kicked a stone in the grass. "Well, either the Vulcans were liars, or the whole planet died out or bailed sometime in the past 200 years." He looked up at Bones. "Why are you so happy?"

Bones shrugged. "No diplomatic mission, no chance of the natives being hostile this time, and little to no chance of you contracting some kind of space STD while 'getting to know the local culture'." He actually used air quotes.

Jim glared. " _Little_ to no chance? Don't imply I'm a slut in front of the crew, Bones."

"Yes, dear. So are we beaming back up, or what?"

Jim narrowed his eyes. "We're already down here. Let's go explore. See if we can figure out what happened to the warp-capable civilization that's supposed to be here."

"Dammit."

"And if it turns out to be safe," Jim continued blithely, "maybe we'll use the time allotted for the visit as shore leave instead."

"What a great idea, Captain," said Bones flatly.

Jim grinned. "I love it when you call me Captain. Bones, you and Sulu go that way," he pointed in a random direction. "Lt. Grxlsy and I are going this way. Be careful if you split up, and maintain contact with the rest of the landing party and the ship."

Jim set a brisk pace across the field and was glad that Grxlsy kept up easily. Bones' bitching and Sulu's laughter faded steadily away as they came to a treeline. Jim blinked around in the shade and then picked a path to set off on.

"Your homeworld's got a lot of forests, doesn't it Lieutenant?" he asked after a minute.

"It does," Grxlsy replied, "but I was born and raised in the city. Never was much for nature as long as I had access to a science lab," xe laughed.

"You're a being after my own heart, Lieutenant," said Jim with a grin. "I grew up on flat-ass prairie but as soon as I got a taste of city life, that was it for me. It was like, yeah, I could go camping or work in a field or commune with nature or something, but why? Cities had bars with women in them. No contest."

"It's pretty nice here, though," Grxlsy observed.

Jim took a deep breath of unrecycled air, a similar mix of gases to what was found on Earth; his head felt light and his shoulders lost a bit of tension. "Not too bad at all," he agreed.

They spent ten more minutes hiking through the trees, going up a small incline, and then Jim said, "There's fuck-all here, isn't there?"

"There really, really is," the lieutenant answered, peering down at xer tricorder.

"Awesome," said Jim. "You've got your comm? Let's split up; the rendezvous for transport back to the ship will be back in that field."

"Aye, sir," xe said, and they parted ways.

Jim struck off to his left, calculating in his head how big the forest might be and how long it might take to intercept Bones or Sulu without using his comm. He figured maybe fifteen, twenty minutes at a good clip, but five minutes later his careful reasoning was thrown out the window when Sulu came crashing out of the brush at him.

"Jim! Thank fuck!" Sulu hissed.

Jim's hand was on the butt of his phaser even as his brain caught up with the situation. "Is something wrong?"

"You're not even going to--there's a fucking _samurai_ in this forest!"

Jim stared for a second and then started laughing. "Well played. You had me going there for a minute."

Then there was a yell and a samurai charged out of a wall of shrubbery, and Jim stopped laughing.

The samurai skidded to a stop, cut leaves flying around him, and started advancing slowly, making sharp, menacing swings of his sword every few steps. Jim and Sulu stood shoulder to shoulder, backing away cautiously.

"Do we need to worry about the Prime Directive here? This is a good time to haul out your sword," said Jim.

"Yeah... I left it on the ship."

Jim glared at him, forgetting the samurai for a second. "You _what_?"

"I don't bring my sword on diplomatic missions!"

"Oh, for...." Jim covered his eyes and shot blindly at the samurai, who was yelling in Japanese (probably something about honour; Jim had read books). He heard a thump and peeked. Unconscious samurai.

"We're going to call that a self-defense tactic compliant with the Prime Directive, since this planet should be warp-capable or at the very least, uninhabited," Jim announced as he walked over to relieve the stunned Shinto warrior of his weapons.

"I think that's fair. Really, does the mission report even have to mention that there was a samurai?" Sulu asked, although he was giving the katana a good once-over.

"Not as long as you don't loot the inexplicable natives," Jim agreed.

Sulu put the katana down reluctantly.

"Great," said Jim. "Now. What is going on with this planet?"

Sulu pointed at the samurai. "I had just split up with Dr. McCoy and was wandering around, and this guy came out of nowhere."

"He surprised you?"

"That's an understatement."

Jim glared at a tree, not that it had done anything offensive that he knew of. "There were no lifesigns on this planet."

"No, there weren't."

"But that is a lifesign." Jim pointed at the samurai.

"Yes, it is."

"Our equipment can't be wrong again. These trees can't be made of iron."

"We double-checked before beaming down. They aren't."

Jim took a deep breath. "Sulu, go find Grxlsy and head for the field we beamed into. I'm going to find McCoy. Then we're all going to put our heads together."

"Aye, Captain." Sulu took off the way Jim had come, opening his comm to hail Grxlsy. Jim picked up his original path.

"I wish Spock had come with us," he muttered as he pulled out his comm to yell at Bones.

"Are you experiencing one of your occasional sadistic tendencies toward me, Captain, to wish I had joined you on this mission?"

Jim jumped and dropped his comm. "Spock," he snapped, bending to pick it up and brush off the dirt, "we've talked about your propensity for sneaking up on people."

"I choose not to acknowledge that I 'sneak up on people', as you put it, nor that we have had conversations on the matter."

"When did you beam down, anyway? Were you just disappointed you hadn't given me a heart attack yet today, or did you need something?"

Spock arched an eyebrow. "We are detecting anomalies in the ongoing scans of the planet."

"What kind of anomalies?"

"Strange fluctuations in the magnetic fields have occurred since the landing party's arrival. We have not been able to establish ship-to-shore communications, so I elected to beam down and assess the situation."

"Just admit that you missed me," Jim advised, opening his comm to hail Bones.

"I will do no such thing."

Jim smirked, and then Bones picked up.

" _McCoy here._ "

"What's your twenty, Bones?"

" _I'm sittin' on a rock._ "

Jim gave his comm a bemused look.

"The doctor sounds unusual," Spock said, echoing Jim's thoughts.

"Bones," Jim said cautiously, "are you okay? Any particular reason you chose to sit on a rock?"

" _Damned if I know. I was walkin' along, enjoyin' the breeze--_ " and that was definitely a pronounced drawl coming through the comm, Jim realized, " _\--an' I was bored an' annoyed from listenin' to Sulu, an' next thing I knew, I was feelin' kinda lightheaded, so I decided to sit a spell._ "

Jim stopped in his tracks. "Lightheaded?"

Bones laughed, low and golden instead of his usual tight chuckle. " _I won't lie, I was wishin' I were enjoyin' a drink in my quarters 'steada bein' down here, and then I felt lightheaded. Kinda feels like I'm drunk, actually,_ " he mused.

Jim pulled a face at Spock. "You stay where you are, buddy. Spock and I are coming to find you."

" _Spock's with y'all now? Huh._ "

"Kirk out." Jim snapped his comm shut and jerked his head at the trees in front of them. "Let's double-time it."

"Agreed," said Spock, following Jim at a jog through the trees.

"So," Jim summarized as they ran, "we beamed down, and there was no sentient, warp-capable culture as advertised by the Vulcans of times gone by. There seemed to be no lifesigns at all, but then Sulu found a samurai."

Spock's easy lope faltered a little. "The ancient Earth warrior?"

"Yes." Jim pointed at him, starting to pant a little from running and talking. He probably needed to start hitting the treadmill some more; that would make Bones happy. "So I stunned the samurai. Now Bones is inexplicably drunk, Sulu's off looking for Grxlsy and hopefully neither of them have found any more hostile displaced people with swords, and you say comms are screwy and there's something in the air."

"I believe I said that the magnetic fields--"

Jim waved him quiet. "I remember. I was shortening it, for effect. And also because I can't run and talk, apparently." He slowed down a little, coughing, before catching up again. "So anyway. What the fuck is going on?"

"I do not have enough information to make a conjecture."

"Dammit. Why does shit get weird every time I beam down onto a new planet?"

"Perhaps you should cease doing so."

"I guess you had to squeeze that in there somewhere. Well, I'm riding the tiger now. How do I get off?"

There was a roar from somewhere behind them. Jim stumbled and was only saved from doing a faceplant by Spock's grabbing his arm.

"What was that?" he asked the ground calmly as Spock hauled him upright. Well, he sounded calm. He felt like he was going to throw up.

"It sounded like an animal."

Jim put his hand on the butt of his phaser and turned around slowly. There was nothing there, no matter how much he peered though the dim trees.

"Let's go," he said. "Slowly."

They made it five steps before there was another, closer growl. Jim whipped around and saw a striped tail vanish into a thick clump of trees.

"I think we're being hunted. By a tiger."

"A tiger?" Spock peered into the trees.

"I hope it's a tiger. I don't want to know what else has an orange striped tail and roars."

"There is one such species native to Betazed. It is much larger than a tiger."

"Spock, I said I _didn't want to know_." Jim drew his phaser and checked the setting. It was still on stun; he jacked up the power a little higher. Tigers probably needed the extra help to fall over.

"What's with all the stuff from Earth randomly showing up here? We're like three parsecs away from Earth right now," he grumbled.

"It is a highly illogical circumstance we find ourselves in," Spock agreed, drawing his own phaser and scanning the forest around them.

"I'm riding the tiger more literally than I thought I was," Jim quipped, and then he froze, dread creeping in on him.

"What is the matter, Jim?"

Jim blinked. "I said I was 'riding the tiger'. And then there was a tiger." He looked at Spock. "Bones wished he were drunk and then he was drunk." He let his phaser arm fall slack as the realization hit him. This was so terrible. "Looks like I picked the wrong day to stop sniffing glue," he said.

"Pardon me?"

Of course that reference had gone over Spock's head; it was archaic. "Never mind, I've never actually sniffed glue. I ate it once in the first grade, on a dare, but that's neither here nor there." Jim raised his phaser again. "To reference another movie you've never seen, Spock, empty your head and don't think of anything. Especially not the Stay Puft marshmallow man."

"You are becoming increasingly illogical under stress, Jim."

Jim sighed. Spock became a huge killjoy under stress. "I think this planet... I'm glad you're Vulcan and won't laugh at me right now. I think this planet grants wishes."

Spock was silent for a second. "You imagine a tiger, and there is a tiger. Dr. McCoy wished to be intoxicated."

"Sulu was thinking about _goddamn samurai_ ," Jim finished venomously. "I need to have a talk with that guy. Something just ain't right there."

The tiger chose that moment to pounce, but it had once again gotten behind them. Spock heard it snap a branch under its paw and whirled to fire, Jim a heartbeat after him. The tiger fell to Spock's phaser shot, hitting the ground with a meaty thud. Jim kept it in his sights but it didn't twitch again. He lowered his phaser with a shaky breath.

"Saved my ass again, Mr. Spock."

"To expand upon your newfound predilection for quoting other sources, Jim: 'that is why they pay me the big bucks'."

Jim stared dumbfoundedly as Spock holstered his phaser and set off the way they'd been going. "Touché, Spock," he managed finally. This was his weirdest day in a while, Jim realized as he jogged to catch up with Spock. Looked like he'd picked the wrong day to stop drinking.

Speaking of drinking, they found Bones about ten minutes later, apparently still sitting on the same rock and enjoying nature or something. It was creepy to watch.

"Bones!" Jim snapped, drawing his attention. For the first time ever, Bones smiled at the sight of him. "Hey, Jimmy!" he drawled.

"Jesus," Jim exclaimed as he walked over to Bones' rock. "I think when you're drunk without actually drinking, it's time to admit you have a problem," he teased.

"Ain't got no problem, kid," Bones insisted as he stood up, wavering only a little. He seemed to be sloshed. "Stop defamin' me. This is why I call y'all a whore in front of the chil'ren, y'know."

"You're fired," Jim joked, slinging Bones' arm over his shoulder and gesturing with his head for Spock to take his other side. "We're taking you back to the rendezvous; try not to think too much on the way. It's dangerous."

"Jus' 'cause it's dangerous when y'all try to do it don't mean it's dangerous for ev'ryone, Jim."

"You're just full of witty rejoinders today, drunky. C'mon, walk."

It was slow going back to the meadow, but Sulu and Grxlsy could be seen sitting on the grass when they made it to the edge of the trees. Jim was unspeakably relieved.

"Jesus Christ," said Bones suddenly, straightening up under Jim's arm. "What happened?"

Jim stopped and looked at him; he didn't sound drunk anymore, just cranky. And Spock had vanished. Jim dropped Bones' arm and turned around in a circle. Spock was nowhere in sight.

Sulu jogged over to meet them, with Grxlsy trailing behind him. "Are you two okay?" he asked.

Jim opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by a strange voice.

"Did you enjoy yourselves?"

Jim turned; it was an old man in dark robes, and he was smiling. And waiting for an answer.

"Excuse me?" Jim managed.

"Did you enjoy your simulations? We offer group packages, if you'd like to bring down the others on your ship."

"What?" Sulu, Bones and Grxlsy asked almost in unison, just as everything clicked for Jim.

"You know what?" he said, as his comm began chirping insistently from his belt. "That sounds like a really fun time, but we have an assignment to go off on right away. Thanks for the teaser, though." He snatched open his comm as the old man nodded benevolently.

"Kirk here."

" _Captain_ ," said Uhura, " _we've just recovered comm signals as well as the transporter functions. Sorry for the radio silence; there was some heavy interference from the atmosphere shortly after you beamed down. Everything okay?_ "

Jim eyed the smiling old man, who looked like he might take another stab at his sales pitch in a minute. "We're okay, Lieutenant. Four to beam up as soon as you're ready."

" _Received and acknowledged. Stand by for transport. Uhura out._ "

"So," Jim said brightly as he hooked his comm back onto his belt, "thanks again, and we'll be sure to come back as soon as we have shore leave!"

"The Araxi await your return with pleasure," the old man said as the glow of the transporter beam began to shimmer around Jim's vision.

Jim spared a second to regret his adventure with Spock and the tiger. One less unexpected wisecrack and ass-saving to remember; he felt a little red-faced to realize that nearly the first thing he'd done after the samurai incident was wish Spock had beamed down with them. Hopefully Bones had been too drunk to remember a Spock of any kind on the planet.

***

"Well, that was the strangest First Contact ever," Jim said as soon as he had a mouth again.

"I still have no idea what just happened," said Sulu as they stepped off of the transporter pad.

"Be in my ready room in five minutes for a debrief and you'll have it all explained, possibly with diagrams," said Jim. "Also, you and I are having a little tête-à-tête about your hobbies later, buddy."

Sulu raised an eyebrow but left the transporter room without a word. Bones and Grxlsy followed. Jim stopped at the comm unit on the wall to hail the bridge.

"Spock," he said, "my ready room in five."

Spock's acknowledgement was immediate and brief. Jim nodded at the transporter tech and headed for the turbolift.

"All right," he said when he walked into his ready room and saw everyone assembled, "raise your hand if you saw some weird shit down there."

Everyone who'd actually been planetside raised their hand. Spock raised his eyebrow. Jim felt a twinge at seeing the real Spock again and cleared his throat quickly.

"That planet was supposed to have a species ready for first contact with the Federation. It seemed to be deserted, but it's actually inhabited by people who call themselves the Araxi; I don't know if they're the same people the Vulcans found or not, or if that original bunch are also there but we just didn't see them. They have sufficiently advanced technology to shield themselves from our scanners and block our ship-to-shore signals at will. They also have some kind of tech that apparently can make things you imagine seem real."

Everyone stared at Jim in silence.

"Oh," said Sulu.

Jim spared a second to make eye contact and shake his head slowly before moving on. "The Araxi guy we met seemed friendly and wanted to sell us a more complete vacation package based on the sales pitch we were apparently thrust into. I politely declined. Spock, make sure the records for this planet are updated to reflect what we found, for future Federation-affiliated ships that might get a surprise when they get there." He scratched the back of his neck. "I guess that's it. Dismissed."

"So, Spock," Jim said loudly once they were back on the bridge, "did you miss me while we were cut off from the ship and facing a credible threat of certain doom?"

Spock walked to his science station as Jim went to reclaim the captain's chair. "There was a great deal of peace and quiet on the ship," he answered. "I considered reclaiming the captaincy under regulation 16, article 2."

Sulu snorted as he took over the helm.

"Actually," Uhura chimed in casually, "he considered taking a shuttle and as many phasers as he could carry down to the surface. Chekov was going to fly it."

Spock and Chekov both turned in their chairs to glare at her; Jim and Sulu (and most of the rest of the bridge) cracked up.

"Aw, you guys," Jim exclaimed. "I have this warm feeling in my chest. It tingles." He frowned. "Is this... is this what being appreciated feels like?"

"I think it's heartburn," said Uhura.

"I agree with the lieutenant," said Spock immediately. "Perhaps you should see Dr. McCoy, Captain."

Jim sighed and sagged in his chair. "Abject and insubordinate mockery," he said thoughtfully. "That's more like it."

"Welcome back, sir," Uhura grinned.

***

Bones was already in the officers' mess when Jim sauntered in for dinner that night.

"I can't help but notice that isn't a salad," he said when Jim sat down with his hamburger and fries.

"Do your observational acuities benefit the practice of medicine like I imagine they would?" Jim asked before taking an enormous bite and chewing obnoxiously.

Bones wrinkled his nose. "Just for that, you're getting a Vitamin C booster later."

Jim forced a smirk. If he showed fear, then Bones would win.

"You know," said Bones after a moment, "I'm aware I was pretty drunk at the time, but I could have sworn I saw Spock down on that planet."

"Hallucinations are a bad sign," Jim said around a french fry.

But Bones gave him a shrewd look. "No, I remember. You said you and Spock were coming to get me. He took my other side when you walked me out of the woods."

Jim chewed in silence, staring Bones down.

"He was on the ship the whole time, though," Bones continued, his eyebrow slowly climbing. "Transporters were down."

Jim sighed and Bones broke out into a big, shit-eating grin.

"You wished for Spock!" he hissed, stabbing a merrily accusing finger at Jim.

"I did not!" Jim hissed back. "I didn't wish for a tiger either, but I got one anyway."

"Hmm," said Bones, in a thoughtful way that Jim didn't like at all.

"I promise next time I'll wish for you instead, baby," said Jim with a wink.

Bones scowled back.

***

Delta Cygni IV was a nice change of pace for Jim, in that the inhabitants were peaceful and friendly. As a bonus, they also knew how to throw a party.

"It's too bad you don't eat meat," Jim told Spock after swallowing a mouthful of food from his hors d'oeuvres plate, "because you are _missing out_ , here."

Spock shot him a sideways glance. "I will attempt to bear the injustice of my predicament, Jim," he said, taking a drink of spiced wine.

The wine was just as excellent as the roasted meat delicacies Jim was eating; he'd had quite a bit already and was feeling soft around the edges. Spock had also been drinking a fair amount, he'd noticed. "You getting drunk there, or what?" he asked with a nod toward Spock's glass.

Spock shook his head. "Ethanol breaks down very quickly and efficiently in my body. I am merely thirsty, and this is one of the few drinks offered. It has a reasonably pleasant taste."

"Alright," said Jim. "Hey, try this orange thing." He pointed at it on his plate. "It's some kind of fruit with a glaze on it."

Spock speared the fruit delicately with one of the eating utensils and sniffed it before he put it in his mouth. Jim watched raptly as he chewed, his face thoughtful.

"That is quite interesting," Spock said after swallowing. "The fruit is sweet and the glaze salty. It reminds me of--"

"--Of mango?" Jim finished.

"Yes. Where did you get it?"

Jim pointed at the end of the buffet table he'd picked it up from and Spock went off to investigate further. Bones drifted over from the milling, socializing crowd in his absence.

"Now this is why I joined Starfleet," Bones said with satisfaction.

"I thought you joined Starfleet because Jocelyn got Earth in the divorce," Jim quipped around another mouthful of food.

"Your punishment for that remark is the loss of your drink," snapped Bones, stealing Jim's wine glass and taking a sip.

Jim shrugged, leaning back in his chair as Spock returned with a plate of mango-things and other plant life. "The great thing about being the captain of a starship is that someone'll just bring me a new one."

Bones took the opportunity to steer the subject in a new direction. "You do the mix-and-mingle yet?"

"Briefly," Spock answered for him between bites of food. "The governing bodies here prefer not to combine business with pleasure, and most topics beyond the basic social obligations already taken care of will be discussed during official negotiations tomorrow."

"See?" Jim said. "My babysitter for the night's got me looked after."

"Well, in that case." Bones got up, still holding Jim's glass (he was actually going to steal it, the asshole) and wandered off into the crowd. Jim watched, mystified, as he made a beeline for Uhura, of all people, and caught her around the waist. Jim thought his heart was going to stop when she just turned around and smiled at Bones.

Jim turned to stare at Spock, who was also watching the scene with interest.

"How long has _that_ been going on?" he asked.

"I am unsure," Spock answered, sounding distant. Probably shock. Jim was feeling shock, too.

Jim glared as Bones and Uhura kept feeling each other up on the other side of the room. "Well," he said, "I vote he be kicked out of the Sad Bastards Club. You can't be a Sad Bastard when you look that happy."

"Seconded," said Spock. "It is unnerving to see him smile when he is not somehow torturing you."

Jim blinked. "Are you sure you're not drunk?"

Spock blinked back. "I was not when you asked earlier." He peered down at his plate; he'd made good headway on his pile of mango-things. He speared one and held it up to peer some more, as though it contained secrets. Then he pulled out his tricorder.

"Oh, for God's sake," complained Jim, darting looks around the room. A fresh glass of wine had appeared in front of him, as predicted; he snatched it up. "Do you carry that thing everywhere with you?"

"Not everywhere," said Spock, scanning the food. The tricorder beeped and he held up the mango-thing in some kind of Vulcan-style triumph. "It is this," he said. "The glaze contains phenethylamine, which intoxicates Vulcans."

Jim raised his glass. "Another mystery solved. Is it dangerous?"

"No more than the wine you continue to drink is hazardous to you."

"Are you going to stop eating the delicious glazed mango-things, now that you know they're getting you shitfaced?" Jim felt a tiny burst of glee at the idea of Spock getting drunk with him.

Spock popped the one he'd scanned into his mouth and tilted his head in a vague shrug. "I am technically off-duty."

Jim laughed. "Amazing. Let's get you some more of those and do this up right."

The rest of the night passed in a haze. Jim remembered a drinking contest with Chekov and an hour-long conversation with Spock and Scotty that had mostly been about possible off-label uses for warp cores. Then it was late, so very late, and the catering people were starting to stack chairs. Someone was leading Jim and Spock off to the hotel room block or whatever that was set aside for sleeping off the party, and it was all unbearably funny to Jim as Spock helped him stagger to a stop outside the room they were both to crash in, because there weren't enough rooms left for them to each have their own.

"I hope you don't snore," Jim said as they made their way into the room, his arm slung over Spock's shoulders.

"I have heard that you do," Spock said back, pulling Jim's arm off of him. He let his hand slide down Jim's sleeve until they were gripping hands.

"Fucking _Bones and Uhura_ ," Jim said, sagging against the wall and letting his head lean back to rest on it. He hadn't thought about it much for a few hours but it was coming back now.

Spock, pulled along in Jim's wake, took the patch of wall next to him and stared up at the ceiling. "It is illogical," he agreed.

"That's what I'm _saying_ ," said Jim, sagging sideways until Spock's warm shoulder was helping to hold him up. "Bones ditched us. Now it's just a two-man pity party."

"I hope they are extremely unhappy together," said Spock, leaning back into Jim.

"Yeah," said Jim, and he turned toward Spock, put out a hand to tilt his face closer, and kissed him.

Spock kissed back, rolling Jim back into the wall and shoving a knee between his legs. He tasted like mangoes. Jim sank into it and let his eyes fall shut, his head heavy with booze. Spock wormed a hand up under his shirt, and Jim pulled his mouth away long enough to say, "Bed," and shove at Spock's arms. Mostly because he was too drunk to fuck standing up.

Spock seemed to be one of those people who retained basic motor skills even while hammered, so he led the way to the bed and engineered most of the clothing removal. Jim settled for providing encouraging feedback and trying not to move too much until he was naked. Then Spock leaned in to kiss the hell out of him some more, and there was skin and warmth and pressure and friction.

"Meeting adjourned," Jim muttered, burying his fingers in the hair at the nape of Spock's neck.

***

Jim woke up and immediately ran for the bathroom.

"Fuck," he said out loud, after he was done retching into the toilet-analogue. Right on cue, the headache smashed into his brain, and he wanted to curl up on the cold floor and whimper himself to death. But he was a goddamn starship captain and a hangover had never killed anyone that he knew of, so instead he hoisted himself up off the floor, rinsed out his mouth at the sink-thing, and staggered back out to find the warm, lovely bed again.

The shock of seeing Spock lying in it, his naked shoulders and the line of his back curving above the sheets, sent Jim right back into the bathroom for another round.

Spock was awake by the time Jim's small intestine had stopped trying to leap up his throat and strangle him, and he appeared in the bathroom doorway in his slightly wrinkled dress uniform as Jim sat gasping, trying to find the energy to stand again.

"Good morning," Spock said awkwardly.

Jim turned blearily to look at him and groaned, being beyond words that weren't expletive.

"Negotiations commence in one hour," said Spock, looking anywhere but at Jim. "I am returning to the ship briefly and will ask Sickbay to administer you a hypospray for your dehydration."

Jim watched him go, and then thought maybe he should find his underwear, just in case Chapel or someone got the hypo and came looking for him with it.

***

Delta Cygni IV became The Incident of Which We Do Not Speak, for Jim and Spock. It had been a drunken mistake which Jim, personally, blamed entirely on Bones. It could have damaged a lesser relationship but Jim and Spock were a team; they were badasses, partners in crime. They were made of tougher stuff than the norm and someday it was just going to be something they laughed about. In private. Because no one else would ever know, if Jim could help it.

The really annoying part for Jim was that he couldn't even remember most of it.

Not that he, like, tried. That would be wrong. He just felt that it was odd and ridiculous that there were blank spots in his memory where there should have been sex with--and his brain was not following that train of thought. But it was worse, because he didn't even have a complete blank slate from that night, either. No, instead he'd be doing whatever (working on the bridge, eating breakfast, negotiating trade treaties) and would get a sudden flash of skin, heat, _moaning_.

It was fucking torture.

He had no idea how much Spock remembered of The Incident but the level of mutual awkwardness that had sprung up between them indicated that he probably remembered some, because he'd seen Jim pantsless and hung over before with no apparent repercussions on his psyche. But, since they Did Not Speak about it, there was just an understanding in place to act like it never happened.

Jim was standing in the doorway of his ready room, talking to Bones, when Spock walked up with a data solid of reports in his hand. When Jim looked down at it, Spock flicked him in the chin with the finger he'd been casually pointing at Jim's chest. Bones' eyes went wide with delight as Jim's went wide with shock.

"Retaliation is not permitted," said Spock.

"Spock," Jim said in exasperation, "I've told you so many times. It's either 'no returns' or 'no punchbacks'. You can't say anything else, or it doesn't count and then I get to sucker-punch you. The rules are very simple."

Bones had a hand over his mouth, but his eyes were dancing and he wasn't fooling anyone. Spock raised an eyebrow and flicked Jim in the chin again.

"Hey!" Jim clapped his hand over his chin as Bones snorted loudly and then let out a howl of laughter. A passing petty officer gave them a weird look but didn't slow down.

Jim punched Spock in the arm. "You didn't say no returns," he crowed triumphantly.

Spock smacked him back, hard, in the other arm (one of Jim's signature moves, in fact). Jim rocked a little to the side with the impact. Bones had collapsed in a chair just inside the ready room and tears were rolling down his red cheeks as he kept laughing helplessly.

Jim shot one glare at Bones before slapping Spock in the arm, and then slapping Spock's hand away as he went to make contact with Jim again. Things deteriorated pretty quickly from there.

It was probably the amount of noise Bones was making in the background, because he had to be pissing himself in the chair by then, but neither one of them heard Uhura sneak up on their little open-handed brawl in the doorway.

She cleared her throat, though, and that was pretty audible. Jim straightened slowly, feeling like someone had just dumped ice water down his back. Spock had a similar expression in his eyes. They turned slowly as a unit to look at her; she was standing with her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised in a pretty good imitation of Spock.

"Are you done? Who's the king of the schoolyard?"

Jim squared his shoulders and tried a level, captainly stare, not that it was likely to restore his dignity. "It was a cultural misunderstanding," he said.

Uhura cocked her head thoughtfully, sparing a glance at Bones, who was still giggling to himself in the background. "I think you'll find, Captain, that pigtail-pulling is a surprisingly universal gesture."

"What?" Jim blurted. "No! That's not... Uhura!"

She gave them an innocent look and took off with a swish of her ponytail, heading back to the bridge. Jim and Spock looked at each other in horror, and then they each took a full step back and stared in horror some more.

"I have to..." Jim trailed off, gesturing vaguely at his ready room and Bones, who had started laughing harder again.

"The astrometrics lab," Spock blurted back, and turned sharply on his heel to walk away. In the opposite direction from the astrometrics lab, but Jim didn't really need to use his ready room either. He was going to kick Bones out on his ass and then hide for a while, though.

***

Lambda Cancer II was ready for First Contact, and Starfleet Command thought a 'softly, softly' approach might be a good idea, given the intel they'd managed to gather up to that point. The senior staff of the _Enterprise_ debated this ridiculous-sounding order and decided that it meant the first landing party should be small and probably not include Jim. Spock and Ensign Hammersmith from Security were unanimously elected as the most efficient and least offensive two-man team possible, and so down they went to the surface. Jim wasn't too concerned about how this mission would go, and went back to his duties with only a reminder to Uhura to keep him apprised if anything interesting happened. Obviously she would do that, but he liked annoying her with self-evident orders just to hear her grit out an, "Aye, Captain".

She paged him in his ready room an hour after Spock and Hammersmith beamed down. "We need you on the bridge, sir," was all she said.

Jim arrived on the bridge with a stylus still tucked, forgotten, behind his ear. "Report," he barked, claiming his chair.

Uhura was flipping switches at her station. "Sir. We've just lost Hammersmith's lifesign."

Jim felt like she'd just kicked him in the chest. "Spock?" he said.

"We still have him. We can't make contact with either of their comms."

Jim took several deep breaths and closed his eyes, trying to fight down a surge of panic and think. "Keep monitoring Spock and keep trying his comm. Contact Command, priority one. Senior staff in my ready room in ten minutes; we're going to make a plan. Chekov has the conn."

Uhura acknowledged his order and was paging her relief when Jim made a beeline back to his ready room, throwing himself into a chair and glaring sightlessly at the paperwork he'd spread everywhere. He swept it off the desk with one arm and then got up to pace the long side of the room until Uhura patched Starfleet through.

"You have permission to extract Commander Spock and attempt discovery and retrieval of Ensign Hammersmith," said Admiral Strong after Jim had broken down the situation for her. Then her expression relaxed out of its professionalism a little bit. "Take a deep breath, Kirk. These things happen with First Contact sometimes. Just remember to document absolutely everything for your report, and think before you act."

Jim tried not to grit his teeth at her military-yet-motherly condescension as he acknowledged her order, and had barely signed off when Bones came into the ready room and dropped into the chair beside Jim.

"Where are we at?" said Bones gruffly.

Jim raked a hand through his hair. "Just got the green light to go in and extract them."

Bones cocked his head to the side. "You asked for permission first? You've changed, kid."

"You say that like I wouldn't have gone after them anyway, even if Starfleet said no."

Bones chuckled as the rest of the senior staff filed in.

"All right," said Jim to the room. "We may have lost Hammersmith but Spock seems to still be alive. My plan so far is to go in with guns blazing. Anyone have a refinement to add?"

Chekov raised his hand. "Are we taking a shuttle? I can drive."

Jim's lips twitched in spite of himself.

***

Much to Chekov's disappointment, the rescue party beamed down to the surface of Lambda Cancer II; as dramatic an entrance as a shuttle might have made, Jim couldn't justify it on a planet where they were perfectly capable of using their transporters. Jim headed the extraction team and was accompanied by Bones, in case immediate medical intervention was necessary, as well as Lt. Giotto and Lt. Park from Security.

The area of the planet that Spock and Hammersmith had beamed into was a desert region; hot, sandpaper wind scraped at Jim's face immediately, and he squinted against it as he inspected their surroundings. A surface scan of the area Spock was supposed to be in had revealed a city, and naturally he seemed to be inside some kind of governmental building. Chekov and Scotty had pored over the maps and picked a blind alleyway as a good spot to beam into; they seemed to have hit it accurately.

Giotto stalked to the mouth of the alley, phaser drawn, and peered around the corner as everyone else lurked behind some kind of trash receptacle. Jim peered over Bones' shoulder at his tricorder; Spock was a blinking green dot in a large building, and hadn't moved since before they'd beamed down. Giotto jogged back over to them.

"There's a public square or park about five hundred metres to our left when we come out of the alley," he said. "Beyond that is a big building, looks like a palace. Light guards outside but from what I could see they don't seem to have energy weapons."

Pretty much what they'd expected. Jim checked the charge on his phaser, as if he hadn't done it twice already. "All right," he said, "let's move."

Hammersmith was lying as though forgotten, near one side of the square. His chest was an open wound, but he'd probably bled out fast. Jim put a transporter beacon on him and darted back for relative cover as Giotto called the ship to have the body beamed back up. Some passersby in flowing, colourful robes gave them looks (maybe it was the Starfleet uniforms, maybe they'd seen Hammersmith's death earlier) but didn't appear interested enough to do anything except look and keep walking.

Giotto and Bones (who was a much better shot than he liked to let anyone know) took out three of the palace entry guards from the cover of a low wall before six other guards came after them with swords. Giotto had been correct; none of them, thankfully, had any energy weapons. The melee began and after Jim had taken out three men with his phaser and one more with his elbow, he grabbed Bones and hauled him up the stairs into the palace proper, leaving Giotto and Park to finish the fight outside and provide a distraction.

Bones had his tricorder out as they skidded down corridors of smooth, polished stone, dodging past huge salons and indoor gardens. Jim took point, stunning palace guards with apparently crappy comm systems as they hurtled through the labyrinthine building.

"I think he's this way," said Bones finally, grabbing Jim's sleeve and hauling him sideways into a connecting passage. They ran for twenty metres before stumbling to a stop in the entrance of what seemed to be a throne room. A man swaddled in gilt robes glared at them from a dais, as did ten other people dressed in finery and eight more guards.

Jim didn't really notice all the concentrated irritation or Bones' litany of swearing, though, because he'd just seen Spock, sitting on a pillow to the left of the dais. Spock saw him at the same time and leaped to his feet. He was mostly naked, except for what basically amounted to a black man-thong under gauzy harem pants. The material of the pants was embroidered with overlapping circles of silver thread, and Jim found himself fixating on the way the light caught the thread as Spock moved. His eyes travelled up over Spock's legs and skipped past the thong, travelling up the space-pale but muscular planes of his torso. There was a scar between his navel and his hipbone, a two-inch-long line of puffy skin, and Jim abruptly realized that he knew how it felt under his tongue.

"Augh!" he yelled, startling six people in his immediate vicinity. Bones swore again.

"Are you back with us?" he snarled at Jim.

Jim's phaser felt warm and heavy in his grip again and he raised it, wanting to put it to his temple out of embarrassment but instead levelling it at a guard. "Yes, yes, let's do this," he said, and then the firefight started.

It turned out that these guys did have energy weapons, at least when they worked close to their sultan or whoever. Jim and Bones dove behind a pillar.

"How fucked are we?" Jim panted as Bones peered around the pillar and then jerked his head back, an orange beam shooting past him to scorch the stone wall opposite.

Bones was silent for a second. "Spock still has a phaser. He just pulled it out of... wherever... and shot three guys, including the maharajah-person."

Jim blinked. "Where the fuck was he keeping a phaser?"

"I don't know and I don't want to," said Bones fervently. Then he said, "Anyway, you were the one staring at him. You tell me."

Jim gallantly chose to ignore that blatant not-quite-untruth and settled for rolling out of their cover to shoot two guards in the knees. They dropped with cries of anguish and he rolled back behind the pillar.

"I'm going to need extensive therapy to get past the image of Spock dressed like a harem girl," he insisted. "There's only three left. On three, we go."

They moved as a unit, around both sides of the crumbling pillar, and took out the last three people standing. Jim kicked something uncomfortably resembling a Klingon disruptor out of his path and they met Spock in the middle of the room, among heaps of unconscious bodies. Spock's extremely naked chest was even more disconcerting at close range (a choked whisper of _Jim_ clawed its way through his memory) and Jim toyed with the idea of stealing a robe off of someone to cover him with. Spock seemed not to notice he was dressed like a cheap Rigellian lapdancer, though, and stood with his usual dignity, phaser hanging from his fingers.

"Ensign Hammersmith was executed when our greetings were misunderstood," said Spock.

"We found him," said Jim, and minute worry lines he hadn't even noticed before disappeared from Spock's face.

"Let's go," said Bones, startling Jim into action. They went to rejoin Giotto and Park, who were both looking battered but whole.

"That's not a regulation uniform," said Giotto.

Spock actually looked down at his twink-pants. "It is not?" he asked, deadpan as usual.

Jim's snort of laughter was swallowed by the transporter beam.

Spock disappeared to his quarters pretty quickly after they reappeared on the _Enterprise_ , although Chekov, who was still manning the transporter controls, looked like he wasn't sure if he'd really seen the eyeful of Vulcan skin he got before Spock ran off.

Spock reappeared on the bridge about fifteen minutes later, tugging his uniform sleeves down over his wrists. It was very calming to Jim, although his eyes kept wanting to travel to Spock's hip.

"We're all glad we got you back in one piece, Commander," said Jim, turning his chair to face the viewscreen.

"The captain in particular was very concerned," Uhura chimed in thoughtfully. Jim was going to transfer her to some tiny science vessel for her sins.

Spock made his way to the science station and sat down. "I was not troubled for my own safety but I certainly appreciated the prompt extraction."

Jim frowned out at space. "You were getting ready to implement your own escape plan, weren't you?"

"I had mentally outlined a method of effecting my own release, yes. However, your rescue was quite sufficient."

Jim rolled his eyes but grinned a little anyway. "High praise, Mr. Spock." He turned his chair around to face the rear of the bridge. "Uhura, let Command know that I'm cancelling my order for a new first officer."

"Aye, sir." She reached up to flip a switch.

***

It had been a week since the Spock in Gauzy Pants Incident and they were well on course to their next mission: scans of a sector beyond Deep Space 2. Not Jim's idea of a great time but all the physicists were excited and Jim settled for an indulgent, vaguely parental kind of feeling when he saw them giddily talking at each other about energy spectra.

Spock was in the officers' mess, eating soup for dinner; Jim cheerfully sat down across the table. "Ready for the ass-kicking of a lifetime?" he asked.

He got an affronted look.

Jim cocked his head. "Chess night? It's Tuesday."

"Ah," said Spock. "Jim, I would like to cancel tonight. I am feeling unwell."

Upon closer inspection, Spock did look a little off. Feverish, maybe. "Okay," said Jim. "Get some rest. See M'Benga or something if you have to." He'd read or do paperwork instead. Probably read.

Spock nodded and Jim left him to his soup.

***

Two days later, Spock looked even more like shit. He was reporting for duty as usual but didn't really respond to Jim's usual chatter, just quietly did his work. He skipped out on Thursday Chess Night, too.

"Did you at least talk to M'Benga?" Jim asked. Spock still looked peaky. His cheeks had a perpetual flush and his eyes were glassy; frequently he seemed like his mind wasn't even in the room.

"I did," said Spock.

"And?"

Spock made what seemed to be a monumental effort to focus on Jim's face. "He is my doctor. Our discussion was private but we are dealing with my illness."

"Okay," said Jim. "Sorry to intrude."

He went and talked to Bones pretty much immediately.

"Jim," said Bones exasperatedly. "I know you're far smarter than you need to be to understand the concept of doctor-patient privilege. That, and I'm not even Spock's doctor."

"It seems to be interfering with his work," Jim tried.

"Then he'll finally take some of his goddamn sick leave. He's probably got about a year's worth, with rollovers."

Jim crossed his arms and stared Bones down. His brain was working fast with worry.

Bones made a disgusted noise. "Sit your ass down."

Jim looked at Bones and then at the visitor chair in his office. He sat.

"Now tell me what the fuck your problem is."

"I'm just concerned about him. Is there a law against that?"

"There are stalking and harassment laws," said Bones in a half-mutter, but then he looked at Jim again and his shoulders sagged. "Oh my god, you are sick with worry over this."

"My concern is professional, as his superior, and personal as his friend," Jim snapped.

Bones clasped his hands in front of him, slowly and deliberately. "Jim," he said, just as slowly and deliberately.

"Yes."

"Do you consider Spock to be a good first officer?"

"I'd have to be an idiot not to!"

Bones just nodded. "He takes his position seriously, discharges his duties with professionalism and a sense of responsibility?"

"Of course!"

Bones stared him down. "But you think that if his condition is that serious, he won't acknowledge the need to request leave from his position and seek medical intervention as required of him by his contract with Starfleet?"

Jim shifted in his chair and looked away.

Bones sat back in his chair with self-satisfaction. "Are you going to sit and have a drink with me and stop being dramatic, or are you going to find someone else to bother besides me or Spock or M'Benga?"

Jim got up, but before he left with his tail between his legs, he said, "Thanks, Bones."

Bones waved him off and picked up the PADD from his desk.

***

The day Spock finally called in sick for Alpha shift and didn't come out of his quarters, M'Benga's signed authorization for medical leave and request that Spock be allowed disembarkation at the nearest starbase hit Jim's inbox. Jim stared at it for a while before going to Spock's quarters. Spock was definitely in there, but he seemed to have quarantined himself and would only speak to Jim through the comm unit on the wall.

"Spock, talk to me."

Spock's voice through the comm sounded hoarse but it might have just been the audio feed. " _I am disembarking at Starbase 37 for transport to T'Hamlan._ "

" _Why_ , Spock? What's wrong?"

For a second, he thought Spock wouldn't answer him. " _I have a medical concern best treated at a Vulcan facility. Efficient treatment will be beneficial for my recovery_."

"Does M'Benga know what's wrong with you?"

" _He does. He will not tell you, Jim, and he is not obligated to._ " Spock paused. " _I will send you a message with my recommendations for acting first officer and science officer in my absence._ "

Jim didn't give a fuck about those things, even though he should have; he kind of wanted to punch the wall, since Spock was on the other side of it. "Why can't you let me in? If you have a Vulcan issue then you can't be contagious to humans, can you?"

" _My condition is best maintained in solitude until I can receive treatment. Please respect my wishes._ "

Jim sighed. "Okay," he said. "Feel better." And he walked away, back to his job.

He was distracted to various degrees for the rest of his bridge shift, and he skipped dinner to head back to his quarters; he didn't know what he'd do when he got there, but he had the kind of restless energy and lack of direction for it that meant he was better off alone that evening.

He'd read the same page of a book six times without remembering any of it when his comm trilled.

"Incoming private communication from New Vulcan, Captain," said the Beta shift comms officer, before patching it through.

Ambassador Spock's face appeared, looking grave. Jim sank into his chair.

"Long time, no see," he said. "Something wrong?"

The wrinkles between Spock's eyebrows deepened. " _Terribly_ ," he said. " _Jim, today our father, Sarek, received a message from Spock that he would be returning to T'Hamlan on medical leave._ "

Jim sat up straighter. "Yeah. Do you know why?"

Spock sighed. " _I do. It is a serious problem, and it cannot be allowed to end as he intends it to_." Spock looked away for a moment, maybe at something outside of the camera pickup, before looking back at Jim. " _Jim, I will tell you what is wrong with Spock so that you may take necessary action to help him. But first I must warn you: this is a highly taboo issue among Vulcans. My speaking to you about it is unheard of in this timeline_."

"I'm listening," said Jim.

***

"Spock!" Jim yelled into the comm unit. "Spock, open this fucking door, or I swear I am going to say what I'm here to say through this comm unit and destroy whatever could possibly be left of your dignity for every crewmember in hearing range!"

Spock's door opened. Jim charged in before Spock could change his mind. He was all set to yell--he didn't know what, something--but the sight of Spock on his meditation mat, visibly trembling all over, his face blotched with green, the room heady with incense smoke because the firepot had been going for who knew how long and Spock had clearly disabled the air scrubbers... it all froze him in place, drove the vitriol from his tongue and left him dumb.

"What did you have to say which was so important?" Spock asked faintly.

Jim stared uncomprehendingly for another moment and then walked over to the firepot, dropping into a clumsy, cross-legged seat across from Spock. The incense made his nose itch with the vague threat of a sneeze. He studied Spock some more; the guy looked wrecked.

"We're ten hours from the starbase," he said finally, which was not even close to what he'd meant to lead with.

"I know."

They watched each other in silence for a while. Spock looked wary, which was fair since Jim had been yelling threats two minutes ago and now seemed calm. It was probably disconcerting.

"I got a comm last night," he said. "From Ambassador Spock."

Spock stiffened; his trembling ceased under the tension.

"He told me what's wrong with you," said Jim.

"And what is wrong with me, Jim?" Spock asked a little shortly, probably hoping he was bluffing.

"It was difficult to understand at first," said Jim, picking at a fingernail, "but apparently you're in heat."

"To be in heat requires an estrus cycle but I suppose your analogy is accurate enough," Spock muttered.

"And apparently if it's not... dealt with... it's dangerous."

Spock said nothing, which was damning enough.

"The idea," Jim said, relaxing a little despite the severity of the situation, "is that when this male version of heat strikes, you find your mate and get busy and everything's good again."

"Your tendency toward oversimplification of facts is as infuriating as ever."

"Stop trying to derail me into a petty argument. You have no mate, Spock. You said you can't find one on T'Hamlan anymore. Presumably that extends to pity fucks. So why are you going back there? What do you do about this with no mate?"

Spock, for all that he looked strung out, seemed to be gathering energy to bolt. "That is none of your business."

"We established a long time ago that I'm nosy. I want to know, as your friend _and_ your boss, what your exit strategy is for this problem." Jim tried to pin him in place with a look.

Spock sighed audibly. "The elders have mental techniques which can ease my physical suffering."

That sounded reasonable. Really reasonable. But the other Spock had been in a Vulcan panic when he called Jim, so something was being left out here. Jim squinted as he tried to suss it out. "That's good. Can they ease it indefinitely?"

"No. Jim, please--"

Jim stood up. Spock heaved himself to his feet, too. "What are they easing your suffering for, then?" But then Jim realized as the words came out of his mouth what Spock had not been saying--either Spock--and the bottom dropped out of his stomach. "Will this kill you?"

Spock just gave him a helpless look.

Jim looked up at the ceiling and swore. Several times. He invented a new word in the process. He'd be proud of that later, maybe, when he wasn't livid and sick with despair.

When he'd recovered some of his cool, he saw that Spock had collapsed on his couch. Jim walked over to him but his reach for Spock's shoulder was stopped with a word.

"Don't." It was a strong, cutting syllable, and not just because it was a contraction. Jim dropped his hand.

"Spock," he said.

"You cannot touch me."

Jim moved to the armchair, near Spock's feet. "Why not?"

"My mental defenses are nearly shattered. My control is tenuous. I can hardly maintain this conversation. You cannot touch me or I will... collapse."

Jim folded his hands in his lap. "Okay," he said. "But let me say that I'm extremely angry and disappointed with you right now."

Spock lifted his head to give Jim a weary, confused look.

Jim stared back patiently, as if Spock were a small child; he understood a little how Spock got off on condescension. "You are literally experiencing a fatal case of blue balls, and you didn't think you could come to me about it? Spock!" He spread his arms wide, illustrating his hurt.

Spock's head dropped back down with a thud. "Jim," he groaned, sounding exhausted.

"I mean," Jim continued, "I could understand it if we hadn't had sex before, but whether we remember it all or not, it happened and you know it. But still, you couldn't take advantage of your Sad Bastards Club membership perks and come to me for assistance."

Spock had squeezed his eyes shut. "Once again, you are grossly oversimplifying the problem."

"Most people would _line up_ for a second go at me," Jim added in a final stab at shocked disbelief. But Spock wasn't amused so he dropped it quickly. "Spock?"

"Jim?" Spock's eyes were still closed; his chest heaved with erratic breaths.

"Somewhere under all that, I was actually being serious."

After a beat, Spock said, "I know."

"How long do you have?"

"Long enough to return to T'Hamlan for treatment by the elders, if I do not delay."

"We could just have sex right now."

Spock heaved himself upright and stared blearily at Jim, his hair in disarray and the whites of his eyes tinged with green. He looked the opposite of sexy, unfortunately. "We could not."

Jim glared. "Stop feeling sorry and unwanted! I am offering as your friend to fuck you so you won't die!"

Spock glared back. "I am not an idiot; I understand precisely what you are offering. It is you who does not understand. We cannot have sex because it will not _help_."

Jim's brain tripped and fell. "But... what? I thought--"

Spock rubbed at his face; he looked like he'd suddenly aged several years. "The point of pon farr is that one has a mate, with whom one establishes an unbreakable mental bond during the... process," he finished lamely. "I must have an established bond with a mate to sate my blood fever."

Jim's stomach turned to lead. "Like you had with T'Pring."

"Like I had with T'Pring," Spock agreed tiredly.

 _God_ , what a bitch. Jim was going to lose one of his best friends and it was all her fault. He'd never even met her and probably never would but he hated her anyway. "So to get this bonded mate, what do you have to do?"

Spock stood up and began to pace on the other side of the couch, rubbing his arms distractedly as though it were cold. The temperature in the room was so high that Jim was sweating. "The Vulcan elders must perform the bonding ceremony."

The room fell silent as Jim watched Spock pace. He looked antsy; he was still trembling and his movements were frenetic, jerky. He probably needed to meditate some more. Jim was probably turning his brain to swiss cheese. More than usual.

Jim stood up. "I have to go."

Spock said nothing as he left the room, but the door locked behind him.

***

Spock would be disembarking at the beginning of Alpha shift the next morning; Jim sat up all night at his desk, mindlessly deleting another six months' worth of Starfleet newsletters and drinking replicated coffee while his thoughts ran around and around like a hamster on a wheel.

Bones intercepted him in the corridor in the morning.

"You look like a hot mess, kid. Do you actually sleep anymore?"

"No," said Jim, propelling himself along with bloodyminded purpose. "Can you give me, like, a caffeine IV? I can keep it beside my chair."

"We get to the starbase in half an hour," said Bones, ignoring his exhausted insanity. "We're gonna stop for a few hours to requisition some supplies."

That meant _Bones_ was going to requisition some _medical_ supplies. Jim hoped it was nothing too ridiculous.

"I see," he said, still staggering along. They reached the officers' mess, where Jim made a hopeful beeline for something that would give him coffee and plenty of it.

"So, you're going to see Spock off, right?" Bones asked while stabbing the replicator keypad with his finger.

"Dunno if he wants to see me," said Jim. "I think he's mad at me."

"He usually is, and with good reason," said Bones, "but that doesn't mean he won't want to see you."

Jim grunted into his coffee cup.

***

Some devilry allowed Bones to drag Jim half-unknowingly to the shuttle bay after breakfast, where M'Benga and Spock were preparing to fly to the starbase. The place was empty; M'Benga was doing the pre-flight checks himself while Spock huddled on one of the shuttle runners in a blanket.

"Jim, Dr. McCoy," he said, getting up shakily.

"Uhura," added Uhura, who had sneaked in behind them. Jim sighed.

Spock looked embarrassed to have such an audience. "Why are you here?"

"Saying goodbye, stupid," said Uhura, taking a few steps forward to stand next to Bones. "You're leaving us."

Spock looked away.

Jim took in the sight of him. Tall, lanky, graceful. Still shaking under the blanket he was clutching around his shoulders. He'd combed his hair back into order but he was dressed in jogging pants and an Academy t-shirt instead of his uniform. He'd left a small duffel bag next to the shuttle runner.

Spock was leaving.

Jim stepped forward, and kept walking until he was within arm's reach of Spock. He saw the battle on Spock's face over whether to step back, but he let Jim stay close.

"Vulcan elders perform a ceremony," Jim said suddenly.

Spock arched an eyebrow at him. "Affirmative. It is a necessary step. It creates a mental bond, the same one I had with T'Pring, which is strengthened during pon farr into a lifelong link."

"And that's all you need to save your life," Jim continued.

Spock blinked. "It is not a simple matter."

Jim shrugged. "Let's do it."

Spock stared.

"What?" said Jim.

"Jim."

" _What?_ " Jim let a note of exasperation creep into his voice.

"You have just asked me to marry you."

"I'm glad we're on the same page."

"I cannot _marry_ you."

"Why not? You got someone else in mind?" Jim's palms were starting to sweat.

"Vulcans do not divorce."

"All right, no pre-nup then." Jim crossed his arms, hoping to hide the shaking in his hands.

Amazingly, the confusion was making Spock look like he was in better health already. He sputtered a little and possibly cast a panicked glance over Jim's shoulder at Bones and Uhura, who were being awfully quiet.

"Jim, I appreciate your sense of duty where your friendships are concerned but this is too great a sacrifice to ask of you. We would be mated for life with full access to each others' thoughts and feelings. It is not to be taken lightly."

Jim uncrossed his arms. "Who says I'm taking it lightly? You're the first person I've ever proposed to. Not even--" he lowered his voice, hoping it wouldn't carry. "Not even _Carol_. Do you understand me?" Off Spock's shell-shocked look, Jim changed tactics.

"You have a scar," he said. "Right here." He pointed at Spock's hip, his finger not quite touching the fabric of Spock's shirt. "I have licked that fucking scar."

"I _knew_ it," hissed Uhura, who was obviously closer than Jim had realized. Bones made a pained noise.

Jim caught Spock's eyes. "I know what that scar feels like under my tongue. I don't know how you got it. I'd like to. I'd like to catalogue all of your scars," he said, realizing with giddy horror that he meant it. "With my tongue, with my fingers. I'd like to kick your ass at chess at least twice a week until we die. I'd like to teach you how to play Punch Buggy, and make you teach me how to swear and say filthy things in Vulcan. I'd like you to meet my mom, so you know what happened to me as a child to make me insane. I'd like to buy a house in New Mexico and retire there with you and sweat to death while I listen to you bitch about how cold it is."

"This is so romantic," said Uhura in the background.

"So," Jim said loudly, over Uhura, "does that sound good to you?"

Spock tilted his head a little to the side. The blanket had slid down off his shoulders. "Yes," he said, sounding like he didn't quite believe it. "It does."

"I'll go get Jim's bag," said Uhura excitedly.

Jim whipped around. "What?"

Uhura disappeared out the door of the shuttle bay and returned two seconds later with the duffel bag from Jim's closet.

"If I missed anything important, you can pick it up on T'Hamlan, I guess," she said, running over with it and fitting his slack hand around the bag handles.

"You _packed my bag_?" Jim demanded, his voice pitched higher than he meant it to be. He cleared his throat. "How the fuck did you get into my _quarters_?"

Uhura backpedaled to stand next to Bones, out of arm's reach. "Len let me use his override."

Jim turned immediately on Bones, who looked unrepentantly smug. "Et tu?" Jim hissed.

"Jim, you are the most oblivious drama queen I've ever gotten drunk with. I hope when your mom finds out and insists you have a ceremony on Earth, that you make sure to wear white."

So many aspects of that statement were terrible and hurtful and wrong that Jim didn't know where to start, so he settled for giving Bones the finger.

"Bus is leavin'," said M'Benga, appearing from behind the shuttle. Who knew how much he'd heard. Or would deny having heard.

"We'll all take good care of the ship while you're gone, Jim," Bones assured him, slinging an arm around Uhura's waist. "You two enjoy yourselves. I want zero details upon your return."

Jim looked down at the duffel bag in his hand, then up at Spock, then over at M'Benga. "I guess I got this," he said. "Thanks, Doc."

"Sure thing," said M'Benga, and wiped his hands on a rag as he strolled out of the shuttle bay.

Jim endured a hug from Uhura and a handshake from Bones, with congratulations, and Spock piped up that the ship from the starbase to T'Hamlan was leaving in an hour so they jumped aboard the shuttle.

"You realize," said Jim as he manoeuvred the shuttle around and waited for the airlock to open, "that by the time we get back, everyone on the ship will know and they're probably going to throw us some kind of obnoxious reception party."

"That seems likely."

The airlock opened and they flew out into space, heading for the starbase shuttle docks. "It's, what, two days to T'Hamlan from here at a reasonable warp?" asked Jim.

"Affirmative." Spock was settling into a meditative position on the floor.

"Maybe a quickie on the way would take the edge off," Jim suggested innocently.

"Negative," said Spock. Then he said, "We will have to sit in different sections of the ship."

Jim sighed and turned his attention back to navigation.

***

The flight to T'Hamlan was long and boring. Beaming onto the surface of the planet for the second time in his life (and in two years), Jim was assaulted almost simultaneously by two things: the afternoon heat, and the sight of Spock's dad.

The words _father-in-law_ crept through his brain and sent a shiver down his back as Sarek gave him a disinterested look and then turned back to Spock.

"Father," said Spock, shifting the strap of his bag against his shoulder as he stepped off of the transporter pad, Jim in his wake. Spock was flushed green by now and beginning to find it difficult to string a sentence together, which seemed to really annoy him. "There has been a change of plans," he announced.

Sarek arched an eyebrow. "There has?"

"I have found a new betrothed."

Sarek and Spock stared at each other for a moment, and then Sarek looked back over at Jim. His face was blank. "I see," he said eventually.

"He is the captain of the ship I serve on," said Spock, looking between them with what might have been nervousness. "You have met."

"I remember," said Sarek.

Jim abruptly remembered that they'd 'met' when Jim had baited Spock into nearly killing him. And Sarek had called Spock off. Eventually. He quickly looked away, studying a truly fascinating rock formation off to his left.

"Your discovery of a way to save your life is commendable, Spock. I will inform T'Pau of your plan and she will make arrangements."

Jim wasn't really sure if the arrangements would be for a wedding ceremony or for Jim's 'accidental' death. He couldn't wait to see if the heat killed him before Sarek got to do it.

Sarek turned away and began leading them to a hovercar. "Spock, a room has been made up in my home for you. We will contact Captain Kirk's friend the Ambassador to acquire accommodations for him this evening. Most likely the ceremony will be conducted tomorrow."

"Understood," said Spock, moving slowly. Jim noticed that Sarek slowed down a little to let him catch up, although he didn't reach out to take Spock's bag or steady him as he walked.

"Great," said Jim with a complete lack of sincere enthusiasm, and hiked his bag up on his shoulder.

***

Ambassador Spock was, of course, willing to let Jim crash with him overnight.

"Thanks, Spock. I appreciate it," said Jim as he let his bag drop onto the bed in the spare room.

"Think nothing of it, Jim. It is my pleasure." Spock paused. "I must caution you, though: among Vulcans who are not aware of my origins, I am known as Selek."

"Gotcha," said Jim, sitting on the bed wearily; the heat was still oppressive indoors. "Selek it is."

"Are you hungry? I will prepare a meal," said Spock, turning away.

"Yeah," said Jim. "Wait, I have a question."

Spock paused and turned back to Jim, folding his hands in front of him serenely. Most Vulcans didn't really look that serene, although Jim could see why, these days.

Now that he had Spock's attention, Jim didn't really know where to start. "When you called me," he said awkwardly, "did you mean for this to happen? Me and Spock getting married?"

Spock tilted his head minutely, thoughtfully. "I had no particular plan for it, no. I was not aware you had a connection of that nature."

Well, neither was Jim at the time, so that was fair. "Did you have that kind of relationship with me in your own universe?"

"I did. Eventually. It did not happen in precisely the same way as it is transpiring in this universe. Perhaps my interference is partially to blame for these events." Spock didn't seem too bothered by the idea. Of course, it wasn't like he could change things up much more anyway, from the sound of it.

"All right," said Jim easily. "Why did you call me, then? What did you expect to happen?"

Spock looked down at the floor for a moment, like he was taking time to compose his answer. "I simply knew in my heart that whether or not you would assume the role you plan to assume, in any universe you are still Jim Kirk. I was certain that you cared enough about Spock to find some solution to his crisis and that he would rather suffer than admit a need for assistance. Indeed, he waited longer than he should have to contact our father."

Jim thought about that for a minute. "I'm glad you did call me."

"As am I. Pride and stubbornness are Vulcan faults which must be acknowledged and dealt with by what remains of our species."

Jim got up to follow Spock to the kitchen. "How come Spock and I have to be apart tonight? Some old tradition or what?"

"No, Jim. The reason for that is much more practical. Spock requires solitude tonight; he is ravaged by the blood fever and must regain the mental fortitude necessary for your wedding tomorrow."

Jim grinned. "So he's getting an early night before the big day, avoiding temptation and all that?"

Spock looked at him. "He is beyond sleep. He will spend the night in meditation."

Jim drummed his fingers on the countertop as Spock started chopping vegetables. "Oh," he said. Then he said, "Shit. I'm getting married tomorrow."

"Perhaps an 'early night' for you would be a prudent idea, Jim," said Spock with a trace of humour in his tone.

***

Spock made Jim wake up at an unholy hour the next morning so that two Vulcan women could assault him with measuring tapes and then manhandle him into some formal robes. When they finally released him, Jim looked down at himself and sighed. "I'm glad Bones isn't here right now." He fingered the heavy white cloth sadly.

"I am sure we could arrange for holos to be taken," said Spock.

"Please," said Jim desperately, his head shooting up to give Spock a wild-eyed look. "Please do not do that. I will give you anything. I mean it."

Spock actually chuckled before wandering off. "Those are merely the first available garments which were both appropriate for the occasion and in your size," he called over his shoulder from the doorway.

Jim realized with despair that he was kind of dumpy by Vulcan standards, and wondered which poor bastard these robes belonged to.

***

Jim was still groggy (there was no caffeine to be found on T'Hamlan; he'd checked) and nursing a mild stomach ache when Spock finally dragged him out of the house and into a hovercar. It was a five-minute drive to the ceremony site, which was more or less out in the middle of the desert and basically constituted a clearing surrounded by large rocks.

"May I stay for the ceremony?" Spock asked as Jim opened the car door.

"What? Of course," said Jim distractedly. "I'd love to have you there." Most of his attention was on the two figures standing by the entrance to the clearing. The taller one was Spock, dressed in black, his hands clasped behind his back. His eyes were locked on Jim.

The older Spock might have said something else as they got out of the car but Jim couldn't hear him. He was relieved to see, when he got closer, that his Spock looked better than he had the day before. Still peaky-looking, but more mentally present than he had been.

"You look amazing in that," Jim blurted out, dragging his eyes up and down Spock's body before realizing that Sarek was standing directly to Spock's left. "Uh, hi," he stammered, trying not to blush.

Sarek just nodded at the older Spock and the two of them walked ahead into the clearing.

An intensity settled over them as Jim and Spock were left alone.

"You ready?" asked Jim.

"Are you?" asked Spock.

Jim's heart was racing. His palms were cold and clammy even though it was about 40 degrees Celsius outside. "Absofuckinglutely," he said.

Spock drew even with him as they walked sedately into the clearing. "You look appealing in white," said Spock quietly. "Dr. McCoy would be pleased."

"You will never, _ever_ tell him about this, or I will never have sex with you again," Jim hissed.

Spock snorted under his breath, just loud enough for Jim to hear. Their arms brushed as they walked, and they were both wearing long, heavy sleeves but Jim's nerve endings sang with it. He swallowed hard and directed his attention to what was in front of him.

The clearing wasn't very large; it could contain maybe fifty people at the maximum. Ten stood around, talking quietly or watching the two of them approach. Jim's attention was drawn by the enormous gong that stood near the far end, though. It was easily fifteen feet in diameter.

"You're shitting me," he said in awe, craning his neck up at it. Then he started to laugh, his chest shaking with the effort of keeping the sound suppressed. Spock gave him a weird look.

"You don't know that song," Jim choked out through the laughter bubbling up his throat. " _Get it on, bang a gong, get it on,_ " he sang under his breath. Vulcans were staring; they could probably hear him anyway. He dug his nails into his palm and took a deep breath.

Spock sighed. "You are oversimplifying things again," he bitched.

"It's hilarious."

"I have changed my mind. I am not desperate enough to marry a lunatic," Spock muttered.

"Well, you shouldn't have waited so long," said Jim matter-of-factly. "You're stuck with me now."

"Hmm," said Spock, and with that they were at the gong. A fierce-looking old woman glared at them; Jim decided this was probably T'Pau.

"Is she officiating?" Jim asked.

"Yes."

Jim thought for a moment. "Isn't she one of the Vulcan Council Elders?"

"She is their head."

Jim turned a little to look at Spock. "How come you rate the head of all the Vulcans as your wedding officiant?"

Spock glanced back at him with a bit of surprise. "She is my great-grandmother."

"Oh," said Jim in a slightly too-high voice. He turned back to face the front. "Okay, then."

People in sashes on either side of Jim suddenly began ringing bells; he tried not to jump out of his skin.

"Kah-li-farr!" shouted T'Pau. Jim was immediately terrified of her and all she stood for.

He watched in puzzlement as Spock walked up to the giant gong, accepted a hammer from someone, and then took a swing at it. The reverberations made Jim's teeth rattle in his skull. Then Spock held out the hammer and gave Jim an expectant look. T'Pau just glared at him.

"Right, because I totally know how Vulcan weddings go _and_ am running on more than four hours of sleep," Jim muttered to himself as he hitched up the hem of his robes enough to walk and climbed up onto the gong platform. The hammer was heavier than Spock had made it look, but Jim braced himself and gave it a pretty good swing. His hands felt fuzzy from the vibrations coming through the hammer grip and he was pretty sure his organs might have liquefied at the noise, he was standing so close to the gong now. The hammer was unobtrusively taken away from him and T'Pau swept toward them in a highly dignified way.

She turned to the witnesses and talked in booming Vulcan for a few minutes while Jim looked around aimlessly and Spock looked at Jim, and then she turned toward Jim and Spock again and put her fingers against their faces, seemingly cradling each of their heads with a hand. Her fingertips felt hot where they touched Jim's face, at his forehead, temple and jaw. He watched Spock's eyes slide shut; T'Pau was still speaking in Vulcan and Jim had to look at her before he realized her lips weren't moving. He felt kind of violated that her voice was inside his head, but then there was some kind of flicker in his skull, maybe a tug, and Spock opened his eyes.

Jim was hit immediately with toe-curling lust.

"It is done," said T'Pau in English, probably entirely for Jim's benefit (how thoughtful), and then she turned to face the crowd again and said something else in Vulcan. Someone snuck up behind Jim while he was trying not to let his knees turn to jelly and rang the gong one more time; he nearly collapsed. The crowd started to disperse and T'Pau hopped nimbly down from the gong platform, striding over to Sarek. Jim took in all of this with fuzzy detachment until Spock's hand seized his elbow and dragged him off, stage left.

"Now what?" asked Jim, blinking as he tried to keep up. Spock's hand was searing-hot and the feel of it gripping him was stealing all of his concentration.

"This way," said a man wearing a sash, leading them behind the gong to another passage in the rocks. A low house stood behind the clearing. He opened the door and then left them.

"Let me guess," said Jim. "The honeymoon suite?"

Spock hauled him inside and shut the door behind them. Jim looked around; there was a bed and a replicator and a door that presumably led to a bathroom. Cozy.

Jim smirked, the song trailing back into his head. He could stop behaving himself now that he was away from all the Vulcans, so he started singing again, snapping his fingers in time and shimmying his hips to the song. "Well, you're dirty and sweet, clad in black, don't look back and I love you; you're dirty and sweet, oh yeah. Well, you dance when you walk so let's dance, take a chance, understand me; you're dirty sweet and you're-- _mmmph_."

Having Spock's tongue in his mouth made it tough to enunciate.

When they broke for air, Jim's back was against the door and Spock had both hands on his ass.

They studied each other. Jim felt a low thrum in his blood, insistent heat. He was pretty sure he'd never been this turned-on in his life.

"You should probably kiss me again," he said, "because there are more verses."

Spock let out a growl as he pounced on Jim, pressing him back hard into the door. Jim could feel an erection poking him in the thigh through his clothes; a tingle of arousal crawled up his spine. Then Spock gripped his shoulders and Jim heard a ripping noise. It was hard to think around the way Spock was devouring his lips, but it sounded like.... And then Spock ripped Jim's robes right off of him.

Somewhere in the back of his head, Jim had a guilty thought for the dumpy Vulcan he'd borrowed those from, but most of the front of his brain was engaged with thinking about how sexy it was to have his clothes ripped off. He voiced his thoughts with a moan into Spock's mouth, which was returned in a way that went right to his groin. Jim stepped out of the wreckage of his clothes and started gently herding Spock over to the bed.

Spock went without complaint, still latched onto Jim and moving his hands everywhere in a very possessive way that made Jim push him a little harder. He exhaled in surprise when the backs of his legs hit the bed and Jim leveraged the advantage by shoving Spock down onto the mattress. He just lay there for a minute, still, taking in Jim standing naked above him. His eyes were almost black. Jim braced one knee on the bed and leaned down to tug at the sash of Spock's robe, never breaking eye contact.

"I'm not even going to try to rip these off you," Jim said as he undid the knot, "but I promise I'll make up for it in a second."

Spock just stared at him hungrily.

Jim pulled the robe open, exposing the long line of Spock's torso that led the eye naturally to his erection, thick and straining and tinged greenish-blue. Jim crawled up the bed and held himself over Spock's body, pressed his lips to the hollow of Spock's throat and mouthed his way down the planes of his chest, which shuddered under his lips with every intake of breath. Jim stopped at Spock's navel to kiss it wetly, swirling his tongue into it a little; Spock let out a loud moan and his hips bucked hard, nearly making Jim bite his tongue when Spock's hard stomach knocked against his chin. He braced his hands on Spock's hips, making at least a token effort to keep him still. Spock squirmed under his touch but didn't buck again as Jim kissed right below his navel and then licked his way down to the base of his cock.

"Jim," Spock said hoarsely.

Jim looked up Spock's body, his mouth inches above the head of Spock's erection. "What do you want me to do?"

Spock's head dropped back onto the bedcovers; apparently it was too overwhelming to hold it up. He raised a shaky hand to point at a bedside table. "In there.... There should be...."

Jim got off the bed with a pat to Spock's hip and went to root through the drawers. He found medical-grade lubricant and condoms and held them up. "These?"

"Yes."

Jim drank in the sight of Spock sprawled wantonly over the bed for a moment, his arms still in his robes, and then sauntered back over casually. He set down the stuff on the bedspread within arm's reach and then settled over Spock again, trailing his fingers lightly over the bumps of Spock's ribs and feeling him shiver. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

"Yes."

Jim arched an eyebrow. "What do you say?"

Spock recovered his senses enough to glare. " _Please_."

Jim couldn't resist it any longer, and reached out to stroke Spock, one hard pump up and down. Spock gasped. "Okay," he said. "Since you said please and all." He sat back and gave Spock's hip a nudge. "Turn over."

They threw Spock's robes off the bed while rearranging him, and then Jim set to stretching him out. Spock's head hung down between his locked, quivering elbows, and he rocked back against Jim's fingers.

"I cannot take this anymore," Spock said finally, and Jim nearly came at the sound of it. He rolled on a condom as quickly as he could manage, lubed it up gently, and grabbed Spock's hips to push inside.

"Fuck," was all Jim could manage to say at the feeling. Spock ground his hips back and Jim thrust again. He could faintly feel Spock's presence in his head, all heat and lust and the urge to possess, but off in the distance like thunder signalling a storm. Mostly all Jim could feel was his own incredible want, the need to fuck Spock through the mattress as soon as possible. The squeeze of Spock around him, the sounds he was making, and that distant heat were all oil on the fire. Jim realized that Spock was repeating his name out loud like a mantra, and Jim had pushed him flat to the bed, thrusting hard and fast; the headboard was banging a staccato on the wall.

Spock shoved his hips up and back, pushing Jim hard into him and making them both gasp. Spock was using the space he'd created to reach for his cock, and managed one stroke on his own before Jim joined in, pressing along his back and making it slippery with sweat as he tangled his fingers in Spock's. Together they found a rhythm, stroking Spock in counterpoint to Jim's short, hard thrusts.

"Come for me," said Jim against Spock's shoulder blade, squeezing their fingers together and twisting on an upstroke of Spock's dick, smearing precome. Spock's breath hitched and he came with a short yell, clenching so hard around Jim's cock that Jim groaned. A few more thrusts and he climaxed hard, riding out Spock's aftershocks mindlessly.

When Jim came back to himself, he was lying on his side on the bed, spooning against Spock and still inside him. Contentment filled his head, but with an edge to it that made him antsy. Then he realized those weren't his own feelings, they were Spock's.

"We are connected," Spock murmured. "As I told you. For the rest of our lives, we will know each other's thoughts and feelings."

"Well," said Jim, "since I can't remember the first time we had sex, I guess I can settle for cherishing the memory of this round."

Amusement filtered into his brain, and Jim grinned against Spock's back.

"I suppose this is the end of the club," said Spock.

Jim blinked for a second. Ah, yes. The Sad Bastards Club (Enterprise Chapter). "Nah," he said, "we'll give it to Scotty."

Spock snorted. Jim kissed his shoulder and carefully pulled out, tying a knot in the condom and getting up to throw it in the mini recycler. Then he punched up some water from the replicator and drank the entire glass in one go. Fucking in the desert was thirsty work. By the time he turned around again, Spock had thrown the wet bedspread off onto the floor and was lying with his head propped up on a pillow, watching Jim. The antsy edge in Jim's brain had sharpened; Spock was ready to go again.

Jim set his cup down decisively on the counter and stalked back toward the bed. "God, I love you."

"I think it is my turn this time," said Spock, pulling him down by the hand.

"Seconded," said Jim.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to **rhaegal** for beta-reading, as ever; she's great at being picky about details and making me rethink things, as well as fixing my badly wiki'd science when necessary. All remaining errors of all types in this story are my fault. Thanks to **lazulisong** for beta-reading, cheerleading and basically helping me come up with half the jokes in this damn fic. She nearly deserves a co-author credit. NEARLY. Thanks to **screamlet** and **isandre** and others for some admirable cheerleading and reassuring me that my jokes were indeed funny (this is what it's like to deal with me, you guys). Thanks to **jouissant** and **ashleyj28** for saying nice things about the story and then making a fuckawesome mix and art to go with it. Go tell them how much you love them. And of course, thanks to you, dear readers, for making it all the way through this travesty. You are all my favourites. ♥


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